<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Broken Crown by somesunlitdays</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601123">Broken Crown</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/somesunlitdays/pseuds/somesunlitdays'>somesunlitdays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death Eaters, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mild Sexual Content, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, POV Multiple, Squib OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:54:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/somesunlitdays/pseuds/somesunlitdays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Wizarding War is tearing the nation apart, and four boys, with hope in their hearts and skill in their hands, join the Order of the Phoenix to play their part in a war quickly nearing its brutal end. </p><p> </p><p>[An imagining of the First Wizarding War, told primarily through the perspective of Sirius Black, but including glimpses from other canon characters as well].</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>PROLOGUE</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>21st August, 1994 </em><br/>
<em>Paris, France.</em>
</p><p>The cafe stood peacefully disregarded along the narrow, cobblestone street of Rue Cler, quaint but quiet as it had been for decades. From the outside, with its oak paneled doors and the pots of geranium and carnations dotting the perimeter, it seemed indifferent from the dozens of other restaurants, cafés, and taverns which lined the street. Perhaps the inside too was not entirely unique, but those that did stumble into the place often fell for its quirky charm.</p><p>Golden beams of summer light streamed in through the mullioned windows of Café de Madeline to cast a checkered pattern over the dark wooden floor of the vibrant cafe. In contrast to its pale, minty walls, dark wood furniture had been placed around the room. At each table, a lace tablecloth in the color of eggshells had been draped; each morning someone placed atop it a vase of fresh peonies in varying shades of pink. Upon inspection, one would find the chairs upholstered in a variety of fabrics and patterns - from velvet and silk, to viscose and leather - and no two chairs or settees matched one another. Frames of beaten bronze and gold hung along all the walls, depicting France and its many glorious sights, as well as writings from its most notable writers and poets.</p><p>But half hidden in the shadows of greater stores - a new boutique and an old pub famous for its rich fare and beer - the café was rarely busy. Though people often stopped by to pick up a coffee or a macaron on their way to wherever life in Paris pulled them. Today seemed to be another day of toiling about the place, poring over inventories, and listening to the cello that the manager was so fond of. So far, only three customers had come in, all frequent visitors whose preference Inés knew by heart.</p><p>As she did most days, Inés had spent the greater half of the morning watching people from the window beside the counter, taking in their outfits and making notes in the hopes of improving her own wardrobe. She had been admiring the scarf of a woman sitting at a table just across the cobblestoned street, when the bell chimed. A tall, lanky man appeared before her, his face half shadowed by the sunlight striking his flat cap. Even so, she could still see the scars littering this face.</p><p>"Bonjour," the man began, tugging a loose thread from the lapel of his coat as he continued, "uh, je suis... ici... por, uh, pour voir, Madame Dumont?"</p><p>The waitress eyed the man curiously. Had he not struggled with French, it would still have been clear that he came from elsewhere. In a city that brimmed with people parading their best attire, he was dressed in a long, shabby overcoat that was more fitting for a decade or two ago, while his hair, a mess of brown, windswept strands that were graying at the corners, looked in desperate need of a fresh cut.</p><p>"Mademoiselle?" His eyes, tired yet alert, peered over the counter, and the waitress quickly looked away.</p><p>"Oui, monsieur. Um, Madame Dumont, c'est exact?"</p><p>"Hmm? Oui."</p><p>"Elle est dans le coin, à l'arrière. Par ici s'il-vous-plait." Once she had gathered a menu from under the desk, and a fresh set of cutlery, she turned back to the man, finding him staring back at her in what she knew was confusion. She had seen the look on several others after all, though often they were better dressed than he. Inés sighed.</p><p>"Madame Dumont," she pointed a finger behind her, "'zere. Follow moi?"</p><p>The man nodded, offering her a smile. "Yes, yes, thank you."</p><p><em>Anglais</em>, Inés decided as she led him to a table near the windows in the back. His accent was easy to recognize and left little doubt that he had come from across the channel. Madame Dumont quickly got to her feet when she saw them approaching, pushing her dark hair over her shoulder as she did so.</p><p>"I hope it wasn't too difficult to find this place."</p><p>"Not at all," the man supplied easily, returning Madame Dumont's hug.</p><p>Inés laid out menu cards for the two, careful not to seem as interested in the two as she really was. Over the years, Madame Dumont had frequented the cafe more times than Inés could count, but seldom had she ever seen the older woman with a friend.</p><p>"I almost thought you wouldn't recognize me, Mrs. Dumont."</p><p>"How could I not? And please, you don't need to be so formal," she insisted, her smile faltering. "Call me Vianne."</p><p>"Vianne?" There was doubt in his voice, and something else which Inés could not place. Clearing a table a few paces from the pair, Inés glanced back to see that neither had made a move to peruse the menu.</p><p>"Vianne." Mrs. Dumont gave a small nod. "Is that okay?"</p><p>"Why wouldn't it be?" The man was, Inés realized, rather handsome when he smiled, despite the sunlight making his scars stand out. "I'm glad we're still able to call each other by our first names."</p><p>Madame Dumont offered him another smile, the frail, polite kind one often wears when there's nothing much to say in return. Instead, "Inés?"</p><p>She sauntered over to their table, pulling out a small notepad as she did so. "Oui madame? Monsieur?"</p><p>Vianne glanced at the man who shrugged, saying: "I have very little knowledge where French food is concerned, I'm afraid."</p><p>"Let's hope I know what I'm doing." She turned to Inés and said, in fluent French, "une quiche au fromage et au jambon, deux cafés au lait, deux éclairs. Merci, Inés."</p><p>"Bien sûr," Inés nodded, jotting it all down.</p><p>"Did you arrive in Paris okay?" Vianne asked the man.</p><p>The last thing Inés heard as she retreated to the kitchens was as peculiar as they seemed ordinary.</p><p>"There were a few hiccups with the portkey, actually," the man was saying, "something about it being at the same time as a muggle parade in the area, so I used the floo instead. Suppose it took longer, but no worries. Here I am."</p><p>When Inés later returned with a freshly baked cheese and ham quiche, eclairs, and two steaming cups of coffees, Madame Dumont and her friend sat rather quietly. Not speaking a word until Inés had served and returned back to her position near the front of the cafe. For the next two hours that they sat, Inés could hear nothing of their whispers, no matter how closely she listened when walking past them. But they seemed to talk a lot. And argue, judging by the way Mrs. Dumont once angrily got to her feet before the man persuaded her to sit down again.</p><p>It was both amusing and sad, how Mrs. Dumont, the most ordinary, boring person Inés had ever met, was suddenly the most interesting person in Café de Madeline.</p>
<hr/><p>"The waitress seemed terribly interested in our conversation," Remus whispered once Inés had disappeared from sight.</p><p>Vianne laughed, a mellow, soft tone that was often lost amongst the raucous of others. "Yes, she wasn't being very subtle about it either, was she? I suppose she's just intrigued by the fact that I'm here with someone else for once."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"I've been here once or twice with a friend from work. She's the principal of the school I work at," Vianne explained.</p><p>"And most other times?" Remus prompted her to continue.</p><p>Vianne smiled again before sighing and shaking her head. "Mostly, I come here by myself. To grade papers, read, get some coffee, have a macaron or two. Sometimes I even knit. It's a peaceful place to be, you know?"</p><p>Remus nodded. Then, with his brow furrowed, he asked, "You know how to knit now?"</p><p>"Well, I know how to mess up knitting," Vianne laughed, "but yes. I sometimes knit. Try to, at least. It keeps me busy."</p><p>"I'm glad."</p><p>The two fell into silence then. Comfortable or not, neither could be sure. Vianne slowly chewed a mouthful of the quiche she had ordered, but found it didn't taste like much. <em>Odd</em>, she mused, <em>the cafe is known for its quiche, after all</em>. Across her, Remus wasn't doing better with his slice either, shifting the morsels around with his fork.</p><p>The din of footsteps and chatter raging just beyond the walls of the cafe vibrated against the paned windows, its dull echo passing through and into the sparsely occupied cafe. In the two weeks since she'd first heard from him again, Vianne had spent hours mulling over her words. What did one even say to friends you had not laid eyes upon in years? Friends who invariably brought with them a shadow of the past you had tried so hard to forget? <em>There were no right words after all</em>, Vianne realized with a dull pang. There never could be. Not anymore.</p><p>"It's nice to see you again," she said finally, and not entirely because she could no longer stand the silence between them. There was truth in her words, a small but strong sliver of it, and she supposed it would have to do for now. Her voice was a soft whisper as she spoke, nearly lost to the sound of the cello playing overhead and the hustle and bustle that was the sound of Paris, but he heard it nevertheless.</p><p>"Is it?"</p><p>"It is," Vianne frowned, twirling the fine gold bracelet on her wrist as she continued, "I for one was happy when I got your letter. Surprised, yes, but I was happy at the thought of seeing you again."</p><p>Remus shook his head but said nothing more. She had craved silence all her life, yet his always made her exceedingly uncomfortable. "Say something."</p><p>"Do..." he hesitated, playing with his food. "I didn't ever think you'd like Paris, not enough to stay... Do you like it here, then?"</p><p>"Surprisingly, yes," Vianne answered easily. "Paris is so pretty. Crowded and huge, but beautiful and small at the same time. It's hard not to fall in love with this city."</p><p>"Yes, I suppose Paris has been good to you," Remus agreed, nodding distractedly as though several thoughts were running through his mind, and he could not decide which to focus on. "Better than England, certainly."</p><p>It was a tiny thing, a small slip of tongue which should have amounted to nothing. But Mrs. Dumont, quiet as she was, was known to be observant, and the small slip on Remus' behalf may have gone unnoticed by him but not her. Suddenly, as though a veil had lifted from her eyes, it became clear why the man sat opposite her had requested to visit in the first place.</p><p>"Why are you here?" Gone was the warmth from her mellow voice, replaced instead by the steel she'd wound around her heart years ago.</p><p>He looked surprised for a moment, but only just, and then he smiled sadly. "I think you've guessed." Pushing away his plate, he dropped all pretense of being interested in anything besides what he had come to talk about. "Took you slightly longer than I expected. I was certain you were going to refuse from even seeing me."</p><p>"No," Vianne shook her head. Foolish. She would always be foolish. <em>You never learn, do you?</em>  She pushed away her own plate and got to her feet, hastily pulling a black trench coat around her with trembling fingers she hoped Remus wouldn't notice. "I wouldn't have refused to see you, Remus, but I'm afraid I can't stay any longer if the purpose of your visit involves England."</p><p>There it was. <em>England</em>. They never spoke of England, not in letters and never in person. In fact, Vianne was certain she had not said the word in years, not once in the nearly thirteen years since she'd fled the country.</p><p>"I think it's about time we talk about what happened, don't you?" He tried to reason with her.</p><p>"The time to talk about... any of it... has long since passed. I don't need to hear anything."</p><p>"Perhaps it is too late," Remus agreed, "but better late than never. You deserve to know the truth, even if it comes late."</p><p>"I don't need to know your truths, Remus, nor anyone else'."</p><p>"It's imperative that you do."</p><p>"Oh, now it's imperative, is it?" Vianne laughed a hollow laugh. "Forgive me, but I must leave. It was good seeing you, Remus. I doubt we'll meet again anytime soon, so do take care of yourself. Goodbye."</p><p>"Listen to me." Remus' grip was light as he curled his hand around her wrist, stopping her in her path to the door, but she could hear the firmness in his tone as he continued, "I know you don't wish to speak of it, but we must. I know it's been too long, and yet it still hurts to even think about it. But you have to hear what I have come to say. For my sake, or James and Lily's. Your sister's..." He hesitated a second before adding quietly, "If for no one else then for the woman whose name you've hidden behind all these years..."</p><p>"I..."</p><p>"You owe me as much, <em>Vianne</em>." He let go of her hand, never looking away. "Sit. Please."</p><p>For a moment, he looked as though he was sure she wouldn't. But with a small sigh, Vianne sat back in her chair, her face void of all color now. Despite the new lines on her face, she looked much like the girl he'd known during the war: pale and stony, and dreading what he knew she could sense was about to happen.</p><p>"When James and Lily..." He began speaking the words he'd so carefully chosen ahead of time, but stopped himself before he could get any further. Inhaling sharply, it dawned upon him that the speech he'd rehearsed seemed was rather pointless. The woman opposite him had always been shrewd; she would always be a step ahead of everyone else. There was no point in eluding the matter any longer, and so he cut to the chase: "Sirius is innocent."</p><p>Vianne blinked but offered nothing more. Instead, she reached for her now tepid cup of coffee. The silence stretched between them, and Remus stared at her, waiting, perhaps, for some emotion to break through the stoical mask she'd slipped under. Surprise, probably. Anger, even. Guilt, sadness, regret... He will have to be disappointed, thought Vianne.</p><p>"And? What of it?"</p><p>Remus looked even more aghast at her words.</p><p>"Did you not hear what I just said?" he finally asked, not bothering to hide his confusion. "He never, Sirius didn't..." He trailed off, unable to see why she, Vianne, was not surprised.</p><p>"I know." The woman tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear as she leaned back in her chair, staring plainly as she revealed, "I've always known Remus. All these years... I know he is innocent."</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>CHAPTER ONE.<br/></strong>❛<em> the uncertainty of the future.</em> ❜</p><hr/><p>
  <em>16th April, 1978 </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Hogwarts,<br/>8:30 pm</em>
</p><p>A picture of the perfect spring day, the morning had dawned bright and clear. Sunlight streamed in through the many paned windows found within the olden castle, casting a spell of shadows across the scrubbed stone floor. But the shadows, which gradually lengthened with the afternoon, had melted into the soupy darkness of twilight by the time Sirius left the Gryffindor common room.</p><p>Save for a wheezing armor or a whispering painting here and there, silence shrouded Hogwarts. Nearly all students and staff seemed to have retired to their common rooms and offices for the night, even though there was still some time until curfew.</p><p>Whistling to himself, Sirius rounded a corner, finding the courtyard as empty as the rest of the castle he'd walked through. A thick layer of clouds, threatened rain heavying its underside, concealed the moon from his view, plunging the castle into further gloom. Without any form of natural light, the castle appeared more surreal than usual; the flames flickering in their ornate candelabras only added to the sombre yet eerie nature of the evening.</p><p>He crossed the courtyard swiftly, barely heeding where his footsteps were leading him. After nearly seven years of calling Hogwarts home, he knew it now like the back of his hand, better than he'd ever known his own home. <em>His parents' home</em>, he corrected himself quickly with a shake of his head.</p><p>He continued strolling and turning through the corridors of Hogwarts with blind ease, mulling over his words as he neared his destination. The seventh years' transfiguration classroom was located in the East Wing of the castle - a long way from the Gryffindor tower - and hence Sirius found himself a little out of breath by the time the classroom came into his view. Its heavy, carved oak door stood slightly ajar, a beam of golden light escaping the room to pool across the floor before him. When he was close enough, his ears picked up the faint murmurs that sounded from within the room.</p><p>Sirius glanced at his watch. It was 8:40 pm.</p><p>He hesitated.</p><p><em>You should've first asked McGonagall if she had a minute to spare</em>, Remus' voice rang in his head, <em>showing up unannounced is not the way to go about this, Sirius</em>. The sight of Peter nodding his assent vigorously swarmed before his eyes.</p><p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sirius knew Remus and Peter had been right. That he should have sought McGonagall after dinner and asked to speak with her. But an hour ago, when he'd first heard the suggestion, he'd simply sat chuckling over a mouthful of shepherd's pie, so certain that his friends were overthinking everything. It was too late now.</p><p>With a shake of his head, Sirius stepped forward and rapped on the door sharply.</p><p>The whispering stopped abruptly. Someone cleared their throat.</p><p>Then a voice said evenly, "Come in."</p><p>Sirius pushed the door open to see Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk, the emerald cloak she'd worn that day still draped around her stiff shoulders. A balding man in deep mauve robes and wispy brown hair sat across McGonagall.</p><p>"Mr. Black," McGonagall began, looking at him quizzically, "what brings you here?"</p><p>The man turned sharply at the mention of Sirius' name, and Sirius saw the lined face of the Ancient Runes professor, Bartholomew Sterling. He wasn't a particularly tall or intimidating wizard, but his sharp voice and even sharper mind often proved to be much more intimidating in class than one would expect at first.</p><p>Sirius stifled a laugh at the scene before him; Sterling sat grinning at the desk, his demeanor as cheerful as McGonagall's seemed sombre at the moment.</p><p>Catching Sirius' eye, the older man raised a hand in greeting. Sirius smiled back before turning back to McGonagall's sharp gaze.</p><p>"I was hoping to talk to you," Sirius explained quickly, "I can come back later, if you're busy."</p><p>"Is it urgent, Mr. Black?"</p><p>Sirius blinked. "More than some matters, yes, but perhaps less so than others. I can't be the judge of that," he eventually replied with a small shrug, grinning when he saw Professor Sterling hide a smile behind his hand.</p><p>McGonagall looked unimpressed. "In that case, you may wait outside."</p><p>"No, no, no, there's no need," interrupted Professor Sterling, getting to his feet with a groan, "I should be leaving anyway... Too many assignments that need to be graded, you know? I better make a move. We'll resume our talk later, Minerva?"</p><p>"Of course, Professor," replied McGonagall in a curt tone which Sirius thought clearly indicated that <em>no, they would likely not be resuming this talk later. Or ever</em>. Sterling didn't seem to think the same for he nodded happily.</p><p>"I just realized something. I won't be seeing you, come next year, Mr. Black," said Sterling as he walked the length of the room. "Still can't tempt you to join the Office for Interpretation of International Hieroglyphics, can I? Golly, that's a mouthful!"</p><p>Sirius let out a small chuckle. "Saddens me to say so, Professor, but no."</p><p>"Sad, indeed. My friends there were excited at the prospect of you joining them. You'd have done beautiful work there, I'm sure," the older man smiled kindly as he approached Sirius. Patting him on the back, Sterling continued, "But I'm sure that given the world we presently find ourselves in, the Auror office is in far greater need of strapping men like yourself. And I wouldn't keep you behind if I had the chance."</p><p>Sirius' grin wavered. The dull pang of disappointment he'd tried to ignore all week made itself known once more, before he managed to push it aside once more. "Ah, yes. I, uh, I'm not bound for the Auror office either, sir."</p><p>"No?" asked Sterling incredulously, his already large blue eyes now protruding dangerously. It would have been a comical sight had Sirius suddenly not been feeling so sick. "Isn't that what you've wanted to do since before taking your O.W.L.s?" Professor Sterling seemed to have forgotten about the piles of essays waiting for him in his office as he turned around to face his colleague. "Why ever is he not joining the auror program? Minerva, you hear this?"</p><p>Sirius saw McGonagall's lips thin as she nodded. "Yes, I've been informed about the office's unfortunate decision."</p><p>"Unfortunate decision? So you did apply?"</p><p>"Yes, professor, I did, but my application wasn't accepted," Sirius explained, adding, "it's unfortunate, I suppose."</p><p>"Unfortunate, indeed! Surely you must be able to put in a word for Mr. Black, Minerva?"</p><p>Sirius didn't know whether he wanted to hug the aging man or snigger at McGonagall's expression. He settled for watching the fire spit and pop as it roared in the stone hearth behind McGonagall.</p><p>"As I've told Mr. Black twice already, these decisions are out of my hand, and nothing I can say or do will change them."</p><p>Sterling seemed unconvinced. He curiously began, "But surely-"</p><p>McGonagall seemed to have her answer ready. "I'm afraid, Bertie–"</p><p>"–certain that since you're held in such high esteem–"</p><p>"–it is no longer in my power to influence the Auror office,"</p><p>"–they'd be willing to review his application once more?"</p><p>"–thus I have little say in matters of the ministry,"</p><p>"Isn't that right, Minerva?"</p><p>"–not at all, in fact."</p><p>Both Sterling and McGonagall stopped speaking at the same time. They looked at one another with wide eyes; Sterling seemed utterly surprised, whilst McGonagall looked positively irritated (Sirius nearly smiled recalling the number of times he'd seen her wear that expression as she berated him and James for one thing or another).</p><p>"But Minerva," Sterling began again, oblivious to McGonagall's rising annoyance. And though Sirius felt a rush of affection towards Sterling for fighting his corner, he interrupted the man before things could escalate. That would prove counterproductive to what Sirius' goal was in seeking out McGonagall.</p><p>"It's alright," rushed Sirius, racking his brain to think of something to say, "it's like I told James earlier, we're at war. I'm sure I'll find other ways to be of use."</p><p>At his words, Sterling whipped around. "Yes," he inhaled sharply. The professor looked at Sirius with wide, hazy eyes before, with a brow raised, he turned back to McGonagall. "He can, can't he? Talented wizard he is. Excellent wandwork, quick, astute..."</p><p>McGonagall's face hardened. "Bartholomew, I don't doubt that Mr. Black here knows exactly how capable he is. You need not fuel his vanity any further," she snapped, glowering at Sirius who promptly wiped the grin away from his face. After a moment of silence, in which McGonagall took in a handful of deep breaths to regain her composure, she slowly added, "And those essays are <em>not</em> going to grade themselves, Professor Sterling."</p><p>"Of course, Minerva." Professor Sterling's face was as blank as his voice. All his cheer had evaporated; he seemed to still be in deep thought when turned back to Sirius. "Good night, Mr. Black."</p><p>"'Night, professor," answered Sirius.</p><p>"Night, indeed," Sterling mumbled distractedly as he retreated from the classroom. "Night... oh, what a night."</p><p>"Mr. Black, there's no point sending you away, is there?"</p><p>Sirius saw McGonagall watching him. He cleared his throat. "You just have to listen to me once."</p><p>"We have already discussed this twice, Mr. Black."</p><p>"What's one more time then?"</p><p>McGonagall gave him one long look, then, sighing exasperatedly, she gestured to the chair that Professor Sterling had vacated moments ago. "Sit."</p><p>Sirius muttered a 'thanks' as he sat down, fiddling his thumbs in circular patterns while he gathered his thoughts. He avoided McGonagall's inquisitive gaze.</p><p>"I wanted to speak to you about-" he started but McGonagall cut him off.</p><p>"-Your rejection from the Auror office," McGonagall finished his sentence. Sirius nodded.</p><p>"I have no doubt that you were one of the best applicants they received this year," McGonagall admitted, not to Sirius' surprise. "And yet - it regrets me to even say this - given your family's past interests and present, uh, inclinations," she peered meaningfully at Sirius whose face had turned grim, "I'm sure you can see why the auror office might be hesitant to offer you a position."</p><p>Sirius looked down at his hands. "I'm not like them," he insisted slowly, the words pushing through his teeth, "I don't believe in anything they stand for, never have. I haven't spoken to any of them all year, and I..."</p><p>"I know," McGonagall interrupted softly, "I also know you understand the Auror office' reservations better than you're letting on. It is by no means fair, this much I'll say."</p><p>Sirius looked up to see McGonagall frowning. He knew his expression matched hers. "I don't know what else I can do."</p><p>"You are a talented wizard, Mr. Black. Surely you have other interests, other careers you might pursue? Obliviator, healer, legislator... the list goes on. Your grades permit you to be a competent candidate for any position. "</p><p>"Just not an auror."</p><p>McGonagall leaned back. She stared at him for a beat, silent, observant, until, "why are you so determined to be an auror? There are plenty of alternatives available to you, ones that you are guaranteed to excel in."</p><p>"You can't fight wars with those alternatives, Professor."</p><p>Something akin to sadness, perhaps it was pity, shadowed McGonagall's face. He couldn't decide which was worse. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw her mouth quiver. But then McGonagall abruptly drew herself to her full height, her mouth a tight line. And when Sirius too scrambled to his feet, she raised a hand to stop him from speaking.</p><p>"To risk one's life is not a sport, nor is it a measure of one's valor," said McGonagall in a low voice.</p><p>Sirius looked taken aback for a moment. "That's not why I wished to become an auror," he insisted, "I want to help the right side, fight for them, do anything I can to put an end to this madness."</p><p>McGonagall stared at him coolly. She stood with both her hands braced on the oaken desk, and a finger of her right one tapped the polished wood in tandem with his thundering heart. After seven years and countless hours of serving detentions in her office, Sirius knew well what the older woman looked like in deep thought. Though seemingly silent and unperturbed, Sirius could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.</p><p>The seconds melted into minutes, but McGonagall did not move; she continued watching him from above her spectacles, a range of emotions flying across her slim face, none of which he could name.</p><p>"There is nothing I can do to sway the Auror office's decision," McGonagall repeated, breaking the silence at last. Sirius felt his heart sinking; a painful lump clogged his throat. McGonagall seemed to sense his dejection. She straightened herself and clasped her hands behind her back, adding with an even firmer voice, "I suggest you look into other careers, Mr. Black, for if it is a war you wish to end, then you'd do well to learn that fighting is seldom the best way to winning a war."</p><hr/><p>
  <em>13 Maplebrook St.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>London.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>10:00 pm</em>
</p><p>When the day finally arrived, Juliette realized she did not have as many belongings as she'd thought. It had taken just four boxes to fit her entire life into; four boxes of clothes, shoes, books and other belongings, some cutlery. Everything else had belonged to her parents. Everything else had to be left behind.</p><p><em>It's for the best, Juliette</em>, her mother had said. <em>It's for the best, and it'll be easier to adjust to your new life this way</em>. She sounded stiff, and Juliette wished desperately to know what was going through her mother's head. <em>Now you won't be reminded of us so frequently</em>.</p><p>If only it was as easy to let go of memories as packing things into a box and sealing it with spellotape.</p><p>Getting back to her feet, Juliette stretched her aching limbs as she glanced around. The apartment was small, but it suited her needs well. Apart from the bedroom, there were two other rooms. Juliette and Lynnette had agreed to convert the smaller of two into a study, and the other into a drawing room. Ellis seemed confident that a small dining table could fit comfortably inside that room and insisted he buy it for her. Juliette had shrugged and let him do as he pleased; she didn't think she'd ever need a proper dining table, but if it made her brother happy...</p><p>She ran a finger across the polished, dark mahogany table that now stood in the corner of the room. <em>You need a small table here</em>, Ellis had insisted as he pushed the said piece of furniture into place,<em> just in case a friend or two ever stop by for dinner or what have you</em>. The table was large enough to seat six people. Juliette huffed.</p><p>"They've made a nice place, haven't they? These muggles?"</p><p>Juliette glanced over her shoulder to see her brother leaning against the doorway. She could just make out the kitchen beyond his shoulders, even though he'd switched off its lights.</p><p>"Hmm," Juliette shrugged distractedly, turning back to the placemats she'd been arranging. "It seems like they appreciate architecture too."</p><p>Ellis nodded, staring up at the vaulted ceiling before eyeing the artfully white-paned windows. "You know, it's surprising how much their world resembles ours."</p><p>Juliette smiled. "Are you possessed? Cursed? Injured?"</p><p>"Very funny, Jules," replies Ellis, reaching down to pick up a piece of discarded plastic from underneath the sofa.</p><p>"You praising muggles is odd," said Juliette as she faced him, leaning her weight onto the mahogany table. "It's what Mumma's nightmares must sound like."</p><p>"I'm sure there are plenty of other actions of mine which form the basis of mother's nightmares."</p><p>Juliette laughed softly but otherwise remained silent. The light seeping from the overhead lamps cast a pale yellow glow around the room, which stood just barely furnished. A table, some chairs, a set of grey sofas, a few potted plants, and rows of empty, white shelves made up the living room. The bedroom was just as sparsely furnished for now. Rolls of new carpets and bags full of paintings and cushions were lined up against the wall nearest to the entrance.</p><p>Soft footsteps echoed down the hallway. A moment later, Lynette appeared, her hair, which was just long enough to graze her shoulders, pulled back into a high ponytail.</p><p>"That's the bedding done," she said brightly, "I put away the extra sheets in the linen cabinet across the bathroom. I think there's... three pairs of sheets? Should be enough for a while."</p><p>While Juliette had inherited their mother's rich, dark red hair, her sister's tresses had favored their father's honey colored tones instead. Though they were born on the same day, minutes apart from one another, they were not identical in appearance. Still, there could be little doubt that they were sisters; Juliette and Lynette shared the same deep-set, brown eyes and lean figures; they had both inherited their father's average height as well. Ellis often said they even sounded alike. The twins - as their parents referred to the sisters until their eighth birthday - even seemed to have similar temperaments and hobbies. In nearly every way, Juliette and Lynette Harte were alike.</p><p><em>Except in the one manner that was most crucial.</em> Juliette pushed the bitter thought aside. <em>It's been a long day</em>, she reminded herself, <em>it's just the exhaustion speaking</em>.</p><p>"I've also arranged your coats in the left corner of the wardrobe," Lynette continued, crossing the room to peek into the small foyer, her eyes searching for something. "I didn't bother with your books or canvases. You can arrange them to your liking when you have the time. I didn't want to spend ages on it only for you to redo it all over again."</p><p>"She wouldn't have to, if you did it right the first time," Ellis snorted. Juliette stifled a laugh as Lynette rounded on their brother.</p><p>"You're one to talk. I don't remember you helping unpack anything."</p><p>"I did! Look at that table!"</p><p>"It was already built!" Lynette exclaimed, "You only pushed it from one corner to another. You didn't even cover it with a tablecloth or the placemats."</p><p>Ellis rolled his eyes. "It's not like I know how to do that. I'd only mess up, and Jules here would have to clean up after me."</p><p>Sensing her siblings were about to dissolve into another bout of arguments, Juliette quickly interjected.</p><p>"I'm glad you left the books alone, Lynn," she grinned, "and I'm <em>so</em> relieved you didn't attempt to set the table, Ellis. I think I'm too tired to spend the night laughing."</p><p>"You're taking her side?" asked Ellis in a tone of false surprise, his eyes comically round. "I should've known."</p><p>Lynette's laugh echoed in the apartment, but soon a silence engulfed the three. The distant roar of cars and crowds shuffling around the city penetrated the closed windows. Juliette felt her heart begin to race achingly.</p><p>It was Ellis who spoke first. "Hey, Jules?"</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>He hesitated. "If you're... We, uh..."</p><p>It dawned upon her what he was about to say, what he seemed so uncomfortable to suggest. Her stomach lurched with the realization, but she swallowed down the lump clogging her throat to say, "Thank you for your help today. I know you both have a lot on your plate between work and home, but... thank you for being here today."</p><p>"You don't have to thank us," Lynette remarked.</p><p>"I do," Juliette insisted, hoping her smile seemed as genuine as she wished for it to be. "Well, I think I've managed to settle in, don't you?" She waved her hands around weakly. She thought her voice sounded a little hoarse, but she prayed desperately it was all an illusion conjured up by her tired mind. Meeting Ellis' soft gaze, she suggested, "You should take Lynette back. It's well past her curfew now. And Mumma will be worrying about you too, Ellis."</p><p>"Uh, yes. Yes, it is late," he mumbled as he glanced at his watch. Then he pushed himself off the doorframe with an easy smile. "Well, Ms. Harte, welcome to adulthood," he said loudly, grinning as he engulfed Juliette in a hug, "may you carry the burdens of independence and responsibility with grace, and excel in the delicate art of not giving a fig."</p><p>In spite of the fact that her heart now ached, scorched as though someone had placed a piece of burning coal in it, Juliette felt her lips turn upwards. Ellis had always been able to make her laugh.</p><p>"I'll keep you updated," she lied easily, knowing full well that once she saw her brother out the door, they would have little contact with one another.</p><p>As Ellis went to pick up his coat from where he'd discarded it earlier that morning, Juliette had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. It took her a long moment to realize that it was Lynette.</p><p>Her sister had not moved.</p><p>"Lynn?" Juliette called out, watching her sister stand unnaturally still by the entrance to the hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. Lynette was frowning, and not in the playful manner as she had been a few minutes ago. Her lower lip was tucked between her teeth, her hands clasped into tight fists by her side. With another lurch of her stomach, Juliette remembered that she wouldn't be seeing Lynette much either, if at all.</p><p>Her insides churned and melted, a hot and violent mess of nerves and pain, until she felt as if she was about to be sick. The two had spent nearly every waking moment of their first ten years together. And though they'd since become accustomed to being apart for several months during the years her sister spent at Hogwarts, they'd still called the same place home; at the end of the day, they'd always found themselves with each other.</p><p><em>Not anymore</em>, Juliette thought to herself, liquid fear rising in her throat once more. It scorched and burned, making her eyes water. <em>Will we even see each other soon? Will they let us? Would Lynette even want to?</em></p><p>Judging by her ashen face, her sister was having similar doubts.</p><p>"Will you be okay?" asked Juliette in a quiet voice.</p><p>"Of course," Lynnette whispered, taking a few hesitant steps forward. "Of course, but..."</p><p>"I'll be fine too, you'll see," Juliette insisted, "Muggle London doesn't seem so bad."</p><p>With a small huff, Lynette threw her arms around Juliette. She could smell the lingering traces of her sister's perfume, the sweet scent of tuberose still hanging onto her skin, and closed her eyes. </p><p>"Take care of yourself," Lynette breathed as she let go of Juliette. "If you need anything - anything - just send me a word, okay?"</p><p>Juliette nodded eagerly. "Good luck with your N.E.W.T.s," she told her sister as the siblings walked to the door. "I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."</p><p>"I try not thinking about it," Lynette replied, "I wouldn't be able to sleep."</p><p>"It's ridiculous really, having students worry about N.E.W.T.s when..." he trailed off with a shrug. <em>When there's a war we should all be worrying about instead</em>, Juliette finished his sentence for him in her mind.</p><p>The war - the main reason Ellis had supported Juliette's wish to relocate to muggle London; only a part of the reason their parents had so willingly agreed.</p><p>"Right, best be off now," Juliette smiled through the tears threatening to make their presence known. "I'm sure you're both exhausted."</p><p>With another round of hugs and promises to <em>take care</em> and<em> stay safe</em> and <em>send word</em>, Juliette watched her sister and brother retreat from her new apartment. Then -</p><p>"I... I'm so..." Ellis faltered. He stood before the elevator doors which slid open with a small ding. Lynette had already stepped inside, disappearing from Juliette's view. With a hand on the side of the elevator door, he said quietly, "You don't belong here, Jules. You really don't."</p><p>He was gone before Juliette could understand what he'd said, before she could ask the question lingering at the tip of her tongue. <em>If not even between these muggles, then where</em>?</p><p>Perhaps she didn't belong anywhere, not truly. That's what everyone else said so anyways. </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of Broken Crown!! Do let me know what you think of the story so far! Take Care :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. II.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<br/>❛ </strong> <em>new friendships and old. </em> <strong>❜</strong></p><hr/><p><em>17th April, 1978 <br/></em> <em>London, England</em><br/><em>5:30 AM</em></p><p>Juliette let the balcony door shut behind her as she walked over to a newly unwrapped swing chair that had been a gift from her Aunt Athena. <em>I've heard these are all the rage amongst Muggle youth these days!</em> Juliette's father hadn't seemed too impressed, but Juliette had never loved her aunt more. Even in the disappearing twilight, Juliette could see the chair's white wood, the pale pink and gray cushions, and the steel stand holding it up. With a smile, she settled into the chair, holding a steaming mug of tea in one hand and clutching a box of chocolate digestives in the other.</p><p>She warmed her hands around the mug and took a small sip, careful to not let it scald her tongue. Apart from the gentle patter of rain tapping against concrete, a soft silence imposed itself upon her from all sides. She knew London would soon wake to the sight of dark skies and steady rain, but for now, the world was at peace.</p><p>As if on cue, a shrill sound pierced the air. Juliette set her mug down. The noise echoed in the quiet night again, closer this time, and she realized what it was.</p><p>A hoot.</p><p>Juliette glanced up in time to see a large bird fly out from low, dense clouds and hurl itself towards her. A minute later, a tawny owl landed at the metal rail of the balcony, a hefty looking package tied to one of its legs.</p><p>"Phorcys," Juliette whispered, reaching for her owl, "you're back! What have you got here?"</p><p>The owl hooted loudly, ruffling its ash colored feathers as it dropped to the floor. Light from nearby lamp posts illuminated the parcel it had been carrying - a box wrapped in purple paper, a silvery wax seal pressed into its side. <em>Jedwin's</em>, she thought to herself as she picked up the owl. She'd used an owl order to refill her tea stock; the parcel had arrived earlier than she'd expected. </p><p>"Hey," mumbled Juliette, fighting to hold the owl, which seemed oddly restless and kept flapping its wings in her lap. "Stay still, Phorcys, stay still..."</p><p>"I've never seen anyone keep an owl for a pet," a voice spoke from nearby.</p><p>Juliette jumped, knocking over her mug and sending the owl fluttering to the floor. Phorcys hooted angrily, his bright yellow eyes aghast. Juliette shot him an apologetic glance and turned to see a woman leaning over the balcony next to hers, barely three feet away.</p><p>"Sorry," said the woman quietly, her voice mellow, "didn't mean to scare you like that."</p><p>"It's alright," breathed Juliette, taking in deep breaths to calm her racing heart, "I just wasn't expecting anyone to be up this early."</p><p>The first thing Juliette noticed about the woman were her dark, narrow eyes and high, elegant cheekbones. Upon closer look, she saw the woman had enviously smooth skin, and long, brown hair, and a small beauty spot that was gracefully positioned on the left half of her face, right above her thin upper lip. Though she was dressed in her pinstripe pyjamas, she still managed to look sophisticated as she leaned against the banister.</p><p>"Penelope Bones," she introduced herself with a grin, "I moved in two months ago."</p><p>Shaking herself from her stupor, Juliette waved. "I'm Juliette," she replied, "I moved in just yesterday."</p><p>"I know, I heard the shuffling," Penelope laughed. "So, your name's Juliette?"</p><p>Juliette nodded, confused.</p><p>"After the character?"</p><p>Juliette froze. She had no idea what Penelope was talking about; it was something from the Muggle world, certainly, but her knowledge about muggle things only went so far. It was instances such as these which had kept her awake through several nights in the past few months.</p><p>Penelope was watching Juliette with a raised brow, waiting for a reply.</p><p>"I suppose," said Juliette slowly, offering a small shrug, "I never asked my parents really."</p><p>Penelope hummed, her beady eyes fixed upon Juliette. If Penelope found Juliette's answer odd, she didn't say. Instead -</p><p>"You have a very pretty name," she offered kindly, her lips turning upwards. Juliette thought she looked even prettier when she smiled. <em>And sad</em>, her mind added after a beat. Even though she was smiling, Penelope Bones had a forlorn look about her.</p><p>"Not a name one can easily forget," Penelope remarked. Juliette said nothing, afraid she'd say something to make the other woman suspicious. Then Penelope, still watching Juliette curiously, added, "Juliet Capulet is, after all, one of Shakespeare's most famous characters."</p><p><em>Juliet Capulet?</em> Juliette had never heard the name before. She made a note to learn more about this Juliet Capulet. <em>And Shakespeare</em>.</p><p>"I still remember when I first read the story of <em>Romeo and Juliet</em>," Penelope continued, seemingly oblivious to Juliette's unfamiliarity with the topic, "it was actually not very long ago. I've never been very intrigued by his plays, you see. I do love reading but... It's surprising, really, when you consider that Shakespeare is arguably the most famous literary figure in the world of English." She gave a hollow laugh. "I almost feel terrible telling you this. You must think I'm so ignorant."</p><p>"Oh, I haven't ever read his works either," Juliette quickly admitted, hardly believing her luck. She hadn't known, never expected, her name to hold any significance in the muggle world. But of all the muggles she could have come across, she'd met Penelope who appeared to not have read much of this Shakespeare either. Who would hopefully mistake Juliette's confusion with ignorance. "But perhaps I will read his works soon."</p><p>"If you do, then you must tell me," said Penelope eagerly, "I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. I've read enough to have an interesting conversation."</p><p>"I certainly will, when I read it."</p><p>The sun was now creeping over the horizon, spreading golden beams across the sky. Somewhere, a motor had started whirring loudly.</p><p>"I better go, work starts in a few hours," sighed Penelope. She gathered a mug from somewhere behind the balcony wall and blanket from her chair. "Nice to meet you, by the way."</p><p>"Likewise," said Juliette, "have a good day, Penelope."</p><p>"Call me Penny. Everyone else does. Oh, and before I forget: don't be afraid to call on me if you need anything! I'm just a knock away."</p><p>"That's very kind of you," Juliette smiled, wringing her hands in her lap. <em>Perhaps not all muggles are unkind</em>. Hope flickered meekly in her heart even as it thudded loudly against her chest. "Thank you, Pene - Penny."</p><p>Penelope waved cheerfully. "Good bye, fair Juliette."</p><p>No sooner was she gone that Phorcys decided to snap at Juliette's ankle.</p><p>"Ouch! You silly bird," Juliette muttered, picking up the owl and stroking its wings, "Sorry about earlier." The owl blinked, still angry. "I said sorry! Now, let's get this parcel off of you, shall we? Then I can get you some water and treats..." </p><hr/><p>
  <em>Hogwarts.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>7:30 AM</em>
</p><p>"Well?"</p><p>Sirius squinted as he opened his eyes to the sight of James Potter hovering above him. With a groan, Sirius shut his eyes against the offensive sunlight that now flooded the dormitory. "What, James?"</p><p>"How did it go?"</p><p><em>Disastrous</em>. "Brilliant."</p><p>"Really?" James sounded surprised.</p><p>Sirius groaned. "What do you think?"</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>James' bed creaked as he sat down. Fingers tapping against the bedpost, he asked, "What did McGonagall say? Surely she can talk to someone at the Auror office?"</p><p>Sirius sighed. "Nah, she can't."</p><p>"Yes, she can! She was an auror, you know."</p><p>"I know," Sirius leaned up on his elbows, seeing James eyeing him nervously. "But Minnie's forgotten all about that, it seems."</p><p>The door to the dormitory creaked as it swung open.</p><p>James crossed his arms. "I'll go talk to her."</p><p>"Please don't," retorted Sirius, falling back into his pillows.</p><p>"Talk to who about what?" a new voice asked.</p><p>The door shut with a dull thud behind Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, both of whom, Sirius noticed with a grimace, were carrying armfuls of parchment, newspapers, and tomes that had to be terribly ancient if their binding was anything to go by. He was about to ask them what they'd been up to when he remembered Remus and Peter had gotten up early that day to finish some essays.</p><p>"What're you two talking about?" Remus asked again as he set down the books in his arm.</p><p>"How Sirius went to see McGonagall last night, and how she said no to helping him," James explained.</p><p>"What did McGonagall say?" Remus asked at the same time as Peter said, "You came in awfully late last night, I didn't even hear you returning."</p><p>Sirius shrugged. "Forget what McGonagall said. It is what it is," he said in a falsely chirpy tone, "and Pete, the way you sleep, you wouldn't hear a word even if the Weird Sisters held a concert right here, in our dormitory."</p><p>Peter turned red and mumbled something about being a deep sleeper.</p><p>"I'm sure you'll find some other career that interests you," said Remus quietly, "We still have a few weeks."</p><p>Sirius could only hum in response. He hadn't thought of what else he'd have liked to do in life; being an auror was the only thing he'd ever considered.</p><p>The dormitory lapsed into silence as the boys readied themselves for another day of classes. Parchments were shuffled; books stuffed into satchels; ties flung across the room, with disgruntled sounds following after them.</p><p>Eventually, it was James who began talking again, saying, "Write to the Auror Office again." His voice was as solemn as they'd ever heard it. "And if you still don't get in, Padfoot, I won't join training either."</p><p>"Don't be stupid," Sirius huffed, "at the very least, one of us should be an auror. Man on the inside, you know? Reckon we'd need someone to save the rest of us when we get in trouble."</p><p>Remus laughed. "And James is going to be that man, huh?"</p><p>"The future truly is bleak, my friend," Peter quipped, grinning widely as he pulled on his cardigan.</p><p>"Evans has more faith in my skills than the lot of you put together," James scowled.</p><p>"She said that?" asked Peter in a tone of mock surprise.</p><p>"As a matter of fact, yes."</p><p>"Are you sure she was talking about your auror skills," Remus continued, smiling at the sound of his other friends sniggering, "because it seems to me she-"</p><p>James flushed. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Lupin."</p><p>"Or what?" Sirius barked a laugh. "Going to hex him with you excellent wandwork?"</p><p>"Don't even-" started James, eyes wide in warning, but the other boys were quicker.</p><p>"I bet Evans knows all about his wandwork," said Peter quickly. His comment was met with loud guffaws from both Sirius and Remus.</p><p>"Nice one, Wormy," said Sirius, getting to his feet.</p><p>"Sod off, idiots" James mumbled, walking over to his trunk and searching for a fresh pair of socks. He kept muttering under his breath, something about <em>nonsense</em>, and<em> immature gits</em>, and <em>utter prats</em>. The rest of the boys only laughed harder at James' scowling expression, watching amusedly as his face turned a deeper shade of scarlet.</p><p>"You really let him have that one," Remus told Sirius, gesturing towards Peter who had sobered up enough to tie his shoelaces.</p><p>"It was too good a chance to pass up on," Sirius shrugged as he pulled on his robes. He glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Oi, James, you ready?"</p><p>"Bugger off," came the reply.</p><p>"We should all be buggering off," Remus yawned, "it's nearly time for breakfast, and we've Transfiguration right after."</p><p>"Not looking forward to it," groaned Peter as he got to his feet, "McGonagall looks at me like she's going to murder me."</p><p>"At least you've finished your essay," noted James airily as he checked his reflection in the mirror between his and Remus' beds.</p><p>"What, and you haven't?"</p><p>"I'll write it over breakfast."</p><p>"Living on the edge, I see."</p><p>James' face broke into a grin as he ran a comb through his hair. "Life's too short to worry about homework, Pete."</p><p>"Famous last words, I'm sure," the mirror drawled, adding with a scoff, "Turn your collar down, you wanker."</p><p>"Charming as ever," retorted James. The other boys gathered their bags and stuffed their wands into the pockets of their robes, grinning as the mirror continued hurling snide comments at James who, as he did everyday, promptly replied to each and every single comment with increasing sarcasm.</p><p>"Whenever you're done chitchatting, my deer," said Remus, holding the door to the dormitory wide open. His comment was met with an eye roll from James.</p><p>Without another word, the four boys scrambled out the door and made their way down to the common room, from which came the sounds of morning chatter and laughter. Remus and Peter had descended the last flight of stairs and vanished from view when Sirius found his path being obstructed by James whose arm was flung out before him.</p><p>Sirius glanced sideways to see the frown lining his best friend's face. "What?"</p><p>"Are you..." James hesitated, his brown eyes full of concern. He clasped Sirius' shoulder and asked, "are you really sure you're alright, mate?"</p><p>"Absolutely," said Sirius quickly, shrugging off James' arm to straighten his robes, "it's only a job, isn't it? Don't worry about it. Come on now, I'm starving!"</p><p>He'd moved down the remaining stairs before James had had the chance to say anything more.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Ministry of Magic.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Auror Headquarters</em>
  <br/>
  <em>10:40 pm</em>
</p><p>With a grunt, Alastor Moody dropped into his chair, pulling a large stack of files from underneath the desk. His cubicle was cramped with piles of these slim folders, all applications to the department. From the few that he had already read that evening, it was clear the Auror office once more than enough eligible candidates to fill all their empty seats and more. <em>And yet most of them will be rejected</em>, Moody thought bitterly as he flicked through the files. He knew MacDonald's stance on the matter; he did not pretend to understand it.</p><p>The Head Auror, Angus MacDonald, had refused the idea of admitting more trainees than usual. He had long maintained that it was a matter of quality, not quantity, that would help them win the war. The decision was met with disgruntled whispers and snide looks, but there was nothing any of them could do. Hence, <em>Quince, Vincent </em>and <em>Shafiq, Saad</em> — both 18 of age, with near perfect scores in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, but passable marks in Transfiguration — were deemed <em>Rejected</em> with a stamp of the red ink the department used,  and tossed into the overflowing box lying by Moody's feet.</p><p>He was halfway through another pile of applications when, with a barely audible sound, a piece of paper flew into his cubicle. It was a purple airplane — the memos used by the Auror Office. He quickly unravelled the lightly smoking paper to find a small message in bright orange ink: <em>My office</em>. <em>Meeting. Now.</em></p><p>* * *</p><p>"Ah, Moody!" Angus MacDonald exclaimed as Moody strided into his office. "Sit down, lad, sit down. Take a seat." He pointed to a seat at the table where several others were already seated.</p><p>Amongst the assembled crowd were some faces he recognized, such as fellow aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Rufus Scrimgeour; Ismene McKinnon, another auror, and her younger sister, Donna, who worked in the Department for the Regulation of Magical Boundaries; and MacDonald's son, the trainee, Tobias. Then there were others too, people whom Moody did not know by name but whose faces he had seen around the Auror Office and the Ministry. It was an odd mix of Ministry workers, veteran aurors and trainees alike.</p><p>Moody frowned.</p><p>"I think we're all here now," said Angus loudly, clasping his hands before him as Moody sat down. Turning to the others, he said, "I'm sure ye all are wondering why I've called ye here at this hour."</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>Moody followed the voices and saw it was Fabian and Gideon Prewett who had spoken. They grinned widely from where they were seated: a few paces behind the table, half hidden in the shadows of the massive bookshelves that lined an entire wall of the office. They had joined the department a little over two years ago now, and Moody had yet to see why they'd been allowed to be aurors in the first place.</p><p>MacDonald chose to ignore the Prewett brothers.</p><p>"We have had intel regarding an attack being planned. The wizarding settlement of Bulgaria is reportedly the target," he said loudly. A silence fell over the room. Knowing he now had the undivided attention of the entire room, MacDonald continued gravely, "it is likely being led by known death eaters the likes of Mulciber and Travers. Moreover, there's been a tip off regarding the whereabouts of Antonin Dolohov, also last seen in a Bulgarian city, Balchik."</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading chapter two of Broken Crown! Maybe leave kudos and a comment to make this author's day brighter! — take care :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. III.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No Sirius or Juliette in this chapter, but we do get to see what the others are doing in response to the War raging around. It sets up the rest of the act - and book, really - so I do suggest NOT skipping this chapter. <br/>Anyways, happy reading!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>CHAPTER THREE</b><br/>❛ <em>the hour of plans.</em> ❜</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Lestrange House</em>
  <br/>
  <em>England<br/>10:30 pm</em>
</p><p>No one acknowledged him when Anthonin Dolohov entered the room. His velvet robes, damp from the incessant pouring outside, dragged along the floor with a soft rustle — the only sound apart from the crackle of a fire roaring in the far corner of the room.</p><p>As he walked the length of the long room, he couldn't help but eye his surroundings apprehensively. The Lestranges' living room was a huge space of dark, polished floor and high, charcoal colored walls. Hundreds of candles flickered meekly from a massive crystal chandelier which hung in the middle of the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow around the otherwise dark room. There were two large, gold paned windows to his right; thick purple curtains with gold trimmings framed each window.</p><p>Amused, Antonin thought the Lestranges' house was exactly how he'd expected it to be: dark and terribly opulent. Black leather furniture was placed around the room, and a velvet covered table stood to his left; a piano was placed to his right. A plush sofa set and matching, quilted leather armchairs stood by the gleaming stone hearth where the fire was thriving, illuminating the ornate - possibly made of gold - filigree surrounding the fireplace. There were paintings too along the walls, but all they depicted were deserted fields and abandoned castles - it seemed as if the residents of the paintings had fled the room.</p><p>Approaching the fireplace, Antonin turned his attention to the people gathered. He recognized some of them: <em>the Lestranges. Lucius Malfoy. Barty Crouch. Cobris Travers</em>. There were three other wizards, all of whom were staring solemnly into the fire. One of them – a tall man with a rather angular face – was wearing dark gray robes that looked suspiciously like the ones worn by those who worked in the Department of Mysteries. He too, like everyone else around him, sat facing a regal armchair that was placed a few feet before the fireplace; the chair's high back was turned towards Antonin so he could not see who sat in the lone seat.</p><p>It was not difficult to guess, however.</p><p>The fire rippled and gleamed across the fine green scales of a giant snake, which hissed and reared its ugly head as Antonin approached the armchair, uncoiling itself from where it lay beside its master.</p><p>"Nagini," a high, cold voice hissed, "stay."</p><p>Antonin exhaled.</p><p>Walking around the armchair, he swiftly dropped to a knee, and bowed his head. Laying his wand arm over his heart, he said, "My Lord, it is an honor."</p><p>After what seemed like forever, a pale, thin hand waved before him, and Antonin got to his feet again.</p><p>No one spoke. Antonin dared not glance at the Dark Lord without his permission.</p><p>"Set it down," said a woman suddenly, her voice whipping through the stillness of the room. <em>Bellatrix Lestrange</em>; he would recognize that sharp voice anywhere. Antonin looked sideways to see a pitiful house elf stumbling towards the table before the fireplace, his trembling arms carrying a large, silver tray. It was laden with a plate of shortbreads, mince pies, and a pot of fresh tea.</p><p>"Away with you. <em>Go!</em>" Bellatrix hissed under her breath the minute the elf had finished placing the tea on the table. The elf backed away quickly, limping towards a slim door beside the hearth which Antonin had not noticed before. Rudolphus Lestrange nudged the elf with his cane as it passed him, and the elf all but ran from the room.</p><p>Antonin returned his gaze to the carpet.</p><p>"Tea, my Lord?" asked Bellatrix calmly, her sharp voice now suddenly sweet and mellow, dripping with reverence as she gazed at the Dark Lord. Antonin noticed she didn't appear as cautious or nervous as the rest of them did when speaking to the Dark Lord. In fact, she seemed extremely at ease in his presence, something Antonin had never felt.</p><p>"Thank you, Bellatrix," said Voldemort quietly. "It's nice of you to join us on such short notice, Antonin."</p><p>Antonin bowed his head again. Then he looked up to meet Voldemort's piercing gaze.</p><p>"Sit down," said Voldemort coolly, gesturing to an armchair on his left.</p><p>"Thank you, my Lord," said Antonin gratefully as he took his seat beside Travers and Barty Crouch Jr., neither of whom looked at him.</p><p>"How are the preparations coming along?" inquired Voldemort as he accepted the cup of tea Bellatrix offered him.</p><p>All eyes snapped to where Antonin sat. He gulped. "Very well, my Lord," he replied evenly in his gravelly voice, forcing himself to meet the red eyes that bore down upon him, "things are moving along exactly as we discussed."</p><p>Voldemort nodded, offering Antonin a satisfied smile. "Good... very good. I am pleased to see that, so far, it seems as though my judgement of you was not misplaced."</p><p>Antonin felt his chest expand. He suppressed a grin and said, "Allow me to express my gratitude, my Lord. I am honored to be given this opportunity, to be trusted with this task. I live to serve you, my Lord."</p><p>"As much is expected," huffed Bellatrix, her nostrils flaring as she glared at Antonin. Her husband hissed <em>Bella</em> as he glanced at her with wide eyes.</p><p>"Now, now, Bellatrix," soothed Voldemort, his placid tone betraying a hint of amusement, "there's no reason to pick apart Antonin's words. He has proved himself to be rather competent thus far." Voldemort turned to Antonin. "But this is only the beginning, Antonin. It remains to be seen how you fare in the end."</p><p>Antonin pushed his shoulders back. "I will do anything to make sure I fulfill the task you have asked of me, my Lord."</p><p>Voldemort narrowed his red eyes, and Antonin forced himself to not look away. <em>Perhaps it was the right thing to do</em>, he thought to himself because a moment later, Voldemort had turned to stare into the fire roaring before him, the faintest smile spread across his pale face. </p><hr/><p>
  <em>Ministry of Magic</em>
  <br/>
  <em>11:00 pm</em>
</p><p>No one breathed. Despite the number of people crammed into it, the office of the Head Auror had fallen silent, the words of Angus MacDonald still ringing in everyone's ears. Moody could almost taste the apprehension stifling the room.</p><p><em>And excitement</em>.</p><p>Dolohov, Mulciber, and Travers were names the Auror department knew all too well, names whose capture was one of their biggest priorities. Talented, quick, and sly, the three men had been under the Auror department's captivity once: six years ago, in a late night ambush of Little Hangleton, the three men had been caught after a rather brutal fight. The strange image of a skull and a snake protruding from its mouth was found burned into their left forearm during the ensuing interrogations. That was the first time anyone aside from Voldemort's followers had seen the dark mark.</p><p>     Dolohov and his pals had managed to escape, however, when the group of Aurors escorting them to Azkaban had been attacked by masked Death Eaters. It had been quite a scandal back in the day. And, if Moody wasn't mistaken, still haunted many of the senior Aurors who'd been involved in the case at the time.</p><p>"Who's this source?" It was Scrimgeour who'd spoken. He was glaring darkly at MacDonald, and Moody realized belatedly that it was Scrimgeour who was rumored to have been leading the team responsible for escorting Dolohov, Mulciber, and Travers to Azkaban.</p><p>"I'm afraid that information is confidential," MacDonald said after an uncomfortably long pause.</p><p>"Confidential?" repeated Scrimgeour, brows raised in question.</p><p>"Aye, confidential," MacDonald gritted through his teeth, "the source would like to remain anonymous, and I have agreed to it."</p><p>"It could be a trap," said a silky voice. All heads turned to the end of the table where a young witch with blonde hair was sat. She frowned as she reasoned, "they may be intentionally misleading us."</p><p>A few people muttered in agreement. Much to Moody's surprise, the Head of Auror Office was one of them.</p><p>Then MacDonald sighed heavily. "You lot think I haven't considered it already, eh?" A few people shifted in their seats. MacDonald continued, "I've been in contact with the Bulgarian Aurors for a few months now, asking about any strange happenings or sightings. I'd asked them to verify the claims made by our source." MacDonald spoke slowly, as though he was thinking and rethinking every word before saying it out loud. "They sound confident about the legitimacy of our source, and now it seems like we <em>finally</em> have a lead on where those scoundrels have been hiding."</p><p>"Besides, with any lead, there's always a chance of it turning out to be a trap," added Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice. There were murmurs again as some nodded in agreement, while others whispered in doubt.</p><p>"Exactly," said MacDonald, "there's a chance this is going to lead us nowhere, but even so, we can't let the opportunity go."</p><p>"Are we allowed to ask any further questions?" asked Scrimgeour, his face blank.</p><p>"Regarding the actual mission, aye. Anything else, no."</p><p>"We're not allowed to ask who tipped you off? Or why? Or how long you've been tracking these death eaters in Bulgaria without anyone knowing?"</p><p>MacDonald considered Scrimgeour carefully. The Head of Auror Office was quickly approaching his 70s, and in addition to the lines which marked his forehead and eyes, his hair had been thinning and graying rapidly over the past few years. Moody watched as MacDonald fix Scrimgeour with a glare, his beady eyes narrowed, and he couldn't help but think that, with his bulging stomach, black and gray striped hair, and a wide but squashed nose, the Head of Auror Office looked very much like a badger. <em>An angry badger</em>, he corrected himself as the old man's nostrils flared.</p><p>"I can't tell ye who the source was because certain operations within the Ministry, and even the Auror Office, are highly covert, meaning I cannot go about sharing such sensitive information with every auror who's spent more than a day of his or her life working for the department." MacDonald drew in a long, deep breath. Scrimgeour wore a sour expression as the Head Auror continued, "But I'll tell you that it was someone who is trusted by the British Ministry of Magic. And they've done so because it's their duty, just as it is the duty of everybody in this room to accept and respect the decisions made by their superiors."</p><p>"And, what was the last question? Ah, yes. We've been tracking death eaters in Bulgaria for nigh on two months now, and no one apart from those high up were informed because as it stands, our relations with Bulgaria are fragile at best and we felt it was in our best interests to keep minimal officials involved in this lead until we had stronger proof."</p><p>When he'd finished, MacDonald was met with a long silence and uncomfortable glances. He looked around the room and caught Moody's eye who quickly turned away, a grin threatening to make its way onto his face.</p><p>"Any more questions?" asked MacDonald calmly, but all those assembled shook their heads. Moody noticed Scrimgeour sat stiffly in his seat, his head held high as he fixed his glare on a painting over Moody's shoulder, who was sat opposite him. "Good!" said Macdonald cheerfully as he began discussing the mission.</p><p>For the next two hours, the Aurors listened to MacDonald talk about the mission: where they would be going, what they could expect, what they were supposed to do, and so on. They then discussed strategies to raid the suspected Death Eater safehouse, and argued about when it would be suitable to ambush the Death Eaters. By the time midnight rolled around, everyone was buzzing with a nervous excitement only a field mission could bring.</p><p>"Right, Mr. MacDonald would like to make a few announcements before we all leave," called Kingsley Shacklebolt, drawing everyone's attention back to the front of the room. He was a tall, handsome wizard with dark skin and a deep voice that Ismene McKinnon had once described as 'smoky'; Moody had never understood what she meant by it. Kingsley was MacDonald's secretary, replacing Moody himself when he'd been promoted to Field Operations Leader. Moody loved the old Head Auror, but he didn't envy Kingsley's position.</p><p>     "Mr. MacDonald, would you..." Kingsley trailed off, looking at Angus MacDonald expectantly.</p><p>"Aye," said MacDonald as he got to his feet again. "I've a few tasks for some of ye before we discuss the mission in further detail tomorrow. Now, Ismene?"</p><p>Ismene McKinnon, a clever but shy witch in her thirties looked up.</p><p>"You'll choose three aurors to survey the field and make sure it's no trap. It's a relatively simple job so select some newer recruits who show promise. Would give them some experience working on the field." Macdonald waited for Ismene to nod. Then he pointed at Tobias MacDonald – his eldest son and one of the fiercest young aurors Moody had seen — who sat up straighter.</p><p>"MacDonald, you and young Dawlish here," the blonde-haired witch, who couldn't be older than 25, perked up, "translate the Bulgarian reports and see if it mentions anything about any wards those ruddy Death Eaters might've placed on the house."</p><p>Both Dawlish and MacDonald exchanged excited glances. Moody rolled his eyes. It was amusing really how even the most important, and perhaps dangerous, of missions could seem exciting when you were young.</p><p>"Moody?" He glanced around to meet MacDonald's beady eyes watching him carefully, almost as though he were silently warning him. His stomach lurched. Somehow — and he couldn't tell how he knew it — Moody realized who he was going to have to work with before the older man had said it. "Ye'll work with Scrimgeour to assign the rest of the aurors into pairs and create a plan for infiltrating the safehouse."</p><p>Scrimgeour and Moody looked at one another over the table, neither man appearing the least bit pleased at the prospect of having to work with the other. Then –</p><p>"I work better with Dawlish," Scrimgeour said evenly, his gaze flitting from Moody to MacDonald as he spoke. "John Dawlish, that is," he clarified, throwing the blonde witch a look, "no offense, Skye."</p><p>The witch, <em>Skye</em>, shrugged but remained quiet. Moody had no idea that John Dawlish, another auror he hated working with, had a sister in the same department.</p><p>MacDonald seemed unamused at Scrimgeour's words. "I wassna asking you lot to do the <em>ceilidh</em>. You have to work together, not be dance partners," he scowled, handing out tan folders to everyone assembled. "Besides, yer buddy's away on a mission, lad. And even if he were here, Moody's still the best man for this job, so yer stuck with him."</p><p>"Or maybe I'm stuck with him," Moody mumbled under his breath.</p><p>"You say something, Moody?" MacDonald asked.</p><p>Moody cleared his throat. "Just wondering when we're to leave for Bulgaria?" He ignored the dirty look Scrimgeour threw in his direction.</p><p>"Aye, aye," MacDonald nodded, turning back to his notes. "Ye all have two days to prepare, then ye leave Thursday morning. I want this raid done by Friday morning."</p><p>"Blimey, that's no time at all," mumbled one of the Prewett brothers, and Moody found himself nodding.</p><p>"Come to me if any of ye have questions," MacDonald continued, ignoring the disgruntled murmurs making their way around the room, "I'll be working with Shacklebolt to put together an extraction team in case ye need backup."</p><p>With an almighty grunt, MacDonald sat back into his chair, eyes darting from one Auror to another. Then he waved his hand towards the door and said, "Right, that's it for now. It's late, ye all are free to go home. Be sharp, and stay vigilant out there."</p><p>The noise of scrapping chairs and joints cracking filled the room as people scrambled to their feet and bid Angus MacDonald farewell. Moody could sense the doubts and questions lingering in the air like thick fog, but the day had taken its toll and everyone was eager to return home by now.</p><p>"Alastor," MacDonald called out, quiet but stern, as people filed out of the room, "a minute."</p><p>     Kingsley exchanged a look with Moody then shrugged, patting him on his back as he exited the room, and Ismene McKinnon too offered him a small smile as she breezed past Moody on her way out. When the door finally shut behind the Prewett twins, leaving just Moody and MacDonald in his office, the younger man sighed audibly.</p><p>"What did I do now, sir?"</p><p>MacDonald scowled. "We're at war."</p><p>"I read the papers, I see the murders. I figured as much."</p><p>"Aye? And have ye figured that I've bigger things to worry about than yer little spats with the other aurors. Senior ones, might I add."</p><p>Utterly bewildered by his words, Moody considered the man before him warily. "I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Then be nicer to them," grunted Angus MacDonald, "I'm not saying to be their mother, but show a little compassion, use some tact, eh? I've known a little kindness to often go a long way." MacDonald walked over to the window and stared at the scene unfolding beyond. London was drenched as sheets of rain swept into the city, dark and gloomy and all too familiar. "And ye'll want them on yer side sooner than later, Alastor."</p><p>Moody huffed. "Why would I want that?"</p><p>"Because you are good at this job. Very good, in fact. A real talent you have." MacDonald did not look back at the younger man. His voice was soft, as though his thoughts were a million miles from the office. "But talent's fickle, is it not? So fragile when faced with fear and desperation, or pride and power. Those roads that tempt the best of us... Yes. 'Tis a shame how the mind of a man works."</p><p>Moody mulled the words over in his head, frowning. "Been reading a lot of poetry lately, sir?"</p><p>The corners of MacDonald's mouth twitched. "I'd say it's philosophy."</p><p>"Poets are philosophers too."</p><p>"Aye, but philosophers dinna always be poets. Agreed?"</p><p>"Hmm," Moody shrugged. MacDonald seemed lost in his own thoughts when Moody's voice drew him back to the office, "I have to admit, I have absolutely no idea what you're trying to say."</p><p>MacDonald smiled sadly as he continued watching muggle London thrive, people bustling around blissfully unaware of the terrors looming on the horizon. "Just be nicer, that's all I ask of ye. Understood?"</p><p>"Understood," Moody nodded slowly, not understanding what the other man was getting at, "is that all?"</p><p>"Aye," MacDonald said, "ye may leave."</p><p>Moody's footsteps echoed loudly as he walked towards the door. Then, with a hand on the door, Moody turned and asked: "No couplet before I head home?"</p><p>Angus MacDonald let himself laugh. "<em>Leave</em>."</p><p>"Goodnight, sir."</p><p>"'Night, Alastor." </p><hr/><p><strong>❨</strong> <em><strong>The Next Day.</strong> </em><strong>❩</strong></p><p>
  <em>Hogwarts</em>
  <br/>
  <em>6:00 am</em>
</p><p>"Get back to your dormitories," called Professor McGonagall as she swept past a group of fifth year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor girls lingering in the main courtyard. They were sitting on the steps of a small fountain in the middle of the open space, huddled over a magazine that they were reading animatedly. The girls appeared startled when McGonagall's voice echoed in the otherwise quiet courtyard. She fixed them with a stern look. "Why on earth are you girls out of bed this early?"</p><p>She would have liked to stay and hear what the girls had to say, but McGonagall was keenly aware that she was running late. The meeting was due to start in 10 minutes, and she still had to make her way to the other end of the castle. Waving a hand at the girls, she repeated, "Back to your common rooms this instant. Curfew doesn't end for another hour and a half, as you all should be well aware of by now. Don't let me catch you loitering about the school again."</p><p>She walked away from them briskly as they mumbled apologies. Warmth cascaded over her as she turned into a brightly lit corridor, away from the chill brought on by the dense fog which had descended upon the castle overnight. She glanced at her wrist to check the time, only to realize she'd left her watch behind. Looking around her, she spotted a slightly rusted, wrought iron armor near the door to the Charms classroom. It was rumored to have belonged to Sir Lancelot once.</p><p>As McGonagall walked past it, she asked the ancient armor what time it was.</p><p>Upon her voice, the visor moved, opening just an inch, and a low, throaty voice answered, "It is quarter past six in the morning, Professor."</p><p>"Thank you," said McGonagall calmly, as though she was used to having armors telling her the time.</p><p>Eventually, with just over a minute to spare, McGonagall found herself standing before the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Clearing her throat, McGonagall said, "Pixie puffs."</p><p>The gargoyle leapt aside, its giant stone wings turning to reveal a narrow, circular staircase concealed behind it. McGonagall quickly climbed the stairs, running a hand over her hair to tuck away any errant strands of hair. She rapped on the door to the office twice before letting herself in.</p><p>"Ah, Minerva! Come in," said Dumbledore as she closed the door behind her.</p><p>McGonagall took a good look around the room. Albus Dumbledore smiled at her from where he sat at his desk. Professors Sterling and Enid Hornbean, who taught Ancient Runes and Defense Against The Dark Arts respectively, offered McGonagall rather nervous smiles. She narrowed her eyes, and Professor Sterling looked away. He seemed to carefully be avoiding meeting anyone's gaze.</p><p>"Albus," she greeted the Headmaster, warily eyeing the other teachers who were already seated across the Headmaster. "Bartholomew. Enid."</p><p>Professor Enid waved cheerily.</p><p>"Minerva," said Sterling, tilting his head in greeting. He was looking at her shoes.</p><p>With an exasperated sigh, McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "This is in regards to the Order, then?" she asked bluntly.</p><p>The other professors looked uneasily around the room, but Dumbledore surprisingly chuckled. "I am constantly amazed by your dexterity at reading a room, my dear Professor McGonagall."</p><p>If possible, McGonagall's eyes narrowed even further.</p><p>"Yes," Dumbledore revealed, "I do indeed wish to discuss something related to the Order with the three of you."</p><p>Enid Hornbeam, a plump witch in her 40s with pink cheeks and blonde hair that was always pulled back into a tight braided, asked, "are the others joining us, then?"</p><p>Dumbledore shook his head.</p><p>McGonagall's eyes snapped to Bartholomew Sterling. She noticed he was sitting uncharacteristically still, his ears deep pink and forehead glistening. Her frown deepened.</p><p>"It is a matter pertaining to Hogwarts and its students, and thus I wish to discuss it with the three of you only," Dumbledore explained, "for the time being, anyways. We shall discuss this with everybody else once we've arrived at a decision today."</p><p>In an instant, it dawned upon McGonagall what Dumbledore had gathered them to discuss. Bartholomew's disquiet told her all she needed to know, as did the fact that the Ancient Runes teacher had sought her out just days ago, pitching an idea she did not entertain for a second.</p><p>McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "No."</p><p>Everyone stared at her. Dumbledore looked slightly bemused but said nothing; the other professors were gaping at her, even Professor Sterling who had so far avoided making any eye contact.</p><p>"If this is about what I think it is about, then, with all due respect, my answer is no," elaborated McGonagall.</p><p>Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles, carefully watching the stern witch. "Very well," he nodded, "though we haven't discussed anything, of those gathered here, it is clear that a quarter of us will not be in favor. But to merely quell my curiosity, Minerva, what did you think I asked you all here to discuss?"</p><p>McGonagall squared her shoulders. "Keeping in mind a conversation I've had with Bartholomew a few times this semester, and judging by his current, rather frazzled disposition," she threw Bartholomew Sterling an angry glare, "I surmise you wish to discuss recruiting new Order members. Yes?"</p><p>"You indeed constantly amaze me, Minerva," said Dumbledore with a smile, and he did look impressed, "yes, it is the very thing I wish to discuss."</p><p>Enid Hornbeam looked around wildly. "But what's that got to do with Hogwarts? Or the students?"</p><p>"As you all know, the Order is currently in dire need of more members. Voldemort," All three professors flinched at his mention, but Dumbledore paid it no heed, continuing calmly, "-and his followers grow stronger, and we are fiercely outnumbered as of now. We have been searching for people to join us, but locating people whom we can trust has, ah, become a rarity."</p><p>Dumbledore paused, watching the three professors over his spectacles. McGonagall, her heart beating loudly, sat down beside Professor Hornbeam. What Dumbledore said was true, finding new recruits was much harder now than it had been a few years ago. It was difficult to know who was truly on their side, and who was a spy for Voldemort. Paranoia and anxiety were very much prevalent, helping the task at hand little.</p><p>"Bartholomew came to me with a suggestion earlier this month, which he and I have been speaking about at length recently," Dumbledore revealed slowly. Professor Sterling had turned very red now and was clearly avoiding McGonagall's gaze who was watching him pointedly.</p><p>"Yes?" prodded Professor Hornbeam, now frowning herself.</p><p>"We think we may find some competent, valuable members amongst the students of Hogwarts-"</p><p>"But they're too young!" interrupted Professor Hornbeam.</p><p>"Exactly my point," exclaimed Professor McGonagall sharply. "They are simply too young, and not experienced enough to be fighting in wars."</p><p>"Oh, absolutely," agreed Professor Hornbeam. Her eyes were the size of small saucers by now. "I know each and every one of them, and I assure you, Headmaster, they are simply far too young, inexperienced, and undertrained for such a task."</p><p>"Inexperienced and undertrained, indeed," Professor Sterling spoke up for the first time, "but not untalented, surely?"</p><p>"Bartholomew-"</p><p>"Oh, honestly-"</p><p>"Quiet." Everyone fell silent. "I am aware that they are young, Enid. Neither Bartholomew nor I were suggesting we recruit underage witches or wizards."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>Dumbledore raised a hand, indicating he was not to be interrupted. "Bartholomew believes, and I agree, that we can have greater confidence in the integrity of our members if we recruit students who are of age and will be leaving Hogwarts this year. As you said so yourself, Enid, as teachers we know these young witches and wizards extremely well, better than we'd ever know anyone else we come across."</p><p>Dumbledore paused, giving them all a long look before rummaging through the drawers flanking his desk. He pulled out a small, black box covered in silver crescents.</p><p>"Butterbeer fudge," said Dumbledore cheerfully as he passed the box around. "A bit too sweet on the tooth, if I'm honest. Nevertheless, I am rather fond of these."</p><p>The professors all stared back, perplexed, then Bartholomew Sterling leaned in and grabbed a piece of the fudge. The others followed.</p><p>"I find that sugar always helps me concentrate." Dumbledore's lips twitched beneath his long, silvery beard as the three professors bit into the popular confection. Then he continued solemnly, "Students that are of age can no longer be protected from the horrors of this war. Some may pursue paths that lead them directly into the forefront of this war. Others will be forced to confront the terrors awaiting them, whether they wish to fight it or not. So I ask you this: is it so unreasonable of us to consider recruiting a select few of them for the Order when they will, undoubtedly, be thrust into the midst of this war sooner rather than later?"</p><p>A long silence followed his words.</p><p>"They may be young, and inexperienced, but they are not children anymore," Professor Sterling began softly, "Many of them are very talented, you see. Skilled at several branches of magic, but what use is talent if the truth is that they are going out into a world that is bleeding faster than we can heal it. Hogwarts has shielded them thus far, but now? They must face the war awaiting them."</p><p>"We can train them. We can train them and teach them, and they can put their skills to use and help us," continued Sterling, his ruddy face shining with eagerness now, "They are young and full of energy. Many of them are in search of a way to make themselves useful in this war. We are in dire need of more people. Why not select students who we've known for seven years? Student's whose dispositions we've come to understand so thoroughly? Students who can be trusted?"</p><p>"Take some time to calmly think about this proposition," said Dumbledore, his voice quiet yet firm at the same time. "We'll discuss it again in three days' time."</p><p>McGonagall looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. "Albus, you can't possibly be-"</p><p>"But I am, Minerva," he interjected, looking a tad more sorrowful than she had expected. "It gives me no joy to ponder along these lines, but we must do what we can in times like these."</p><p>Silence fell over them once more as the professors all sat in the Headmaster's office, mulling over the words that had been exchanged just now. In the distance, a loud bell rang, reverberating around the asleep castle.</p><p>"Well, that's the breakfast bell," announced Professor Sterling as he got to his feet. McGonagall looked at his disbelievingly. "Shall we be off, Dumbledore?"</p><p>"Certainly," the older man replied, "a new day awaits us all, and we'll need all the energy we can muster. I dare say I've already exhausted you three with the our conversation just now."</p><p>And so, with polite smiles and quiet goodbyes, the three professors rose from their seats, but while Professors Sterling and Hornbeam all but fled from the Headmaster's office, McGonagall remained rooted to her spot.</p><p>"Minerva?" inquired Dumbledore, "Is there something else you'd like to say? Perhaps you mean to ask for another piece of butterbeer fudge? Here."</p><p>"No, thank you," she replied curtly, her jaw set as Dumbledore held out the box of sweets. "Would you have a minute to spare later today? I must speak with you about this... this suggestion, in private."</p><p>"I'm afraid I'll be away today," said Dumbledore, "but you may come see me tomorrow, if you so wish to talk about this."</p><p>"Very well, I'll see you tomorrow at 8, after dinner."</p><p>She had walked across the room and turned the doorknob to let herself out when she halted again. Turning back, she saw Dumbledore watching her curiously.</p><p>Hesitantly, McGonagall said, "Can I ask where you'll be going?"</p><p>"Certainly," said Dumbledore with a wide smile, "and I would gladly tell you that it is for Order business."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"You see, Minerva, I have someone in mind who may be of great assistance to the Order," he revealed, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Someone who I hope will agree to help us."</p><p>"Who is it?" asked McGonagall curiously. "Is it someone I know?"</p><p>"Ah, well, that I cannot answer just now," replied Dumbledore, getting to his own feet, "But should things go as expected, all will be revealed in due time, Professor McGonagall. In due time."</p><p>McGonagall stared at him, and not for the first time did she have the impression that the Headmaster sought great amusement by being intentionally vague.</p><p>He seemed to read her thoughts, for Dumbledore pushed open the door to his office and said, "I do not intentionally wish to keep you in the dark, Minerva, but it must be so at times. Now, shall we head down to breakfast? I'll accompany you."</p><p>The sound of students chattering as they made their way to the Great Hall drifted up the spiral staircase. Dumbledore led the way, speaking rather animatedly as they walked past the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "I know for a fact that the house elves have prepared drop scones for breakfast today. A marvelous, but sadly overlooked delicacy, don't you agree? Much like kedgeree, I think."</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Phew. That was a lot. I'm relatively happy with how this chapter turned out tbh, but what do you guys think? Is Dumbledore's <br/>(or rather Sterling's) idea about recruiting students good? What do you think of Moody? <br/>Lemme know what you think of the story so far :)<br/>And until next time: stay safe, be productive.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. IV.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>❨</b> chapter five.<b>❩</b><br/>❛ <b><em>a crossing of paths</em></b> ❜</p><p>June, 1978 </p><hr/><p>For all the terrors gripping the Wizarding World, it was the fear of examinations which kept sleep at bay for the students of Hogwarts. The entire castle seemed to have lapsed into a long stretch of silence and anxiety as students from all years poured over a year's worth of notes and lessons. With only ten days standing between now and summer holidays, final exams loomed over them like dark, thundering clouds. Sweet, summer breeze frequently wafted in through the windows, warm and enticing beyond reason, yet the students stayed holed up in their dormitories and common rooms, or else lingering in libraries until Madam Pince forcefully ushered them away each night.</p><p>"D'you reckon I'd pass potions if I skipped studying Amortentia?" whispered Peter as he rested his head against a large book titled <em>Achieving Finesse in Potion Brewing, Volume XII</em>. Sirius rolled his eyes, flicking his wand lazily to turn the page of the textbook open before him. He'd forgotten what he was supposed to be studying.</p><p>"What's there to study about a love potion, Pete?" he retorted, keeping his voice low so as to avoid being within Madam Pince' earshot. She kept lingering by the Magical Maladies section, evidently dusting the many books on the topic, but Sirius noticed her furtive glances in their direction every now and then, as though she were certain him and Peter were up to no good.</p><p>He grinned to himself at the thought, turning to tell Peter the same when he caught sight of the pudgy boy still eyeing his books anxiously. Sirius sighed audibly. "Oh, Peter. Just make something up about smelling flowers and cheese when you inhale Amortentia, and you'll ace the damn exam."</p><p>Peter glowered. "You're hilarious."</p><p>"So I've been told," laughed Sirius. Then, noticing Peter's scowl did not diminish in its intensity, he sobered up and added, "Cheer up, there's only so much you can study the night before an exam. You'll do fine."</p><p>"You will, no doubt," Peter mumbled under his breath as Madam Pince breezed past their table, tutting at their whispers. "But I don't reckon I'll pass tomorrow's exam. Never understood potions well."</p><p>Sirius merely grunted in response, unsure of what to say. They both knew Peter had never been good at potions; there was no point in him trying to master it now. The two turned their attention back to the books before them, and Sirius tried to focus on the chapter about the Bubble-Head charm. After what seemed like forever - though barely ten minutes had passed - Peter nudged Sirius.</p><p>"Where are the others?" whispered Peter.</p><p>Sirius shrugged. "James said he was going to see Evans. Haven't seen him since, and Remus..." he racked his brains to think of where Remus had said he would be. "Ah, yes. He had to go see McGonagall."</p><p>"McGonagall? What for?"</p><p>"Not a clue," said Sirius, "she stopped him in the corridor as we were coming to lunch after Arithmancy and asked him if he had a minute to spare."</p><p>"Huh... I wonder what it's about."</p><p>"We'll find out soon enough. Moony can't keep a secret from us, can he?" said Sirius, closing his book and dropping all pretense of studying. He checked his watch and grimaced. "Dinner's in a couple hours. C'mon, I'm heading to the kitchens. A sandwich sounds great about now."</p><p>Peter hurriedly sat up, his round face smiling widely up at Sirius, but then he quickly sagged into his chair again. "I can't," he groaned, "I have to finish studying for Potions before dinner so that I can get to Charms tonight."</p><p>"You're joking?" Sirius looked incredulously at Peter who shook his head.</p><p>Sirius raised a brow. He couldn't remember the last time Peter had turned down an opportunity to sneak into the kitchens or Hogsmeade. Of the four of his closest friends, it was only Peter who Sirius had always, without fail, found a willing comrade in. Even James - who, like Sirius, thrived on sneaking around the castle - had, on occasion, turned down Sirius. But never Peter. These were uncharted waters, and Sirius knew he didn't like exploring it one bit.</p><p>However, he didn't say anything of the like to Peter who was still looking up at him blankly. Sirius shrugged, "Fine. Suit yourself, Pete."</p><p>"Sorry," Peter mumbled apologetically. "I'd-"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Sirius waved a hand, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, "I'll see you at dinner then."</p><p>And without another word, Sirius had swept through the library and headed down the stairs towards the kitchens.</p><hr/><p>As always, she didn't know what brought it on. One moment, she had been munching on chips and strolling through St. James - a muggle district that her neighbor, Penelope Bones, had mentioned while the two attempted to paint the walls in Juliette's living room - and watching amusedly the sight of two girls playing catch around an out-of-order, bright red telephone booth. But the next minute, just as Juliette had managed to carefully swerve around a pair of tall, suited men who kept whispering to one another rather conspiratorially, she found herself stumbling as a familiar, cold feeling washed over her. Caught unaware, she stumbled, reaching out blindly for support and finding purchase against a streetlight as bright red and white flashed before her eyes at a numbing rate.</p><p>Her stomach lurched; once; twice; it kept churning. Leaving a burning trail behind it, bile rose up her throat, bitter and cruel. A loud buzzing filled her ears and began drowning the din of cars and pedestrians around her. Higher and faster it climbed until all she could hear were the odd, shrill sounds that she could swear were familiar, yet she could not place where she'd heard it before.</p><p>And then, as suddenly as it had come over her, the dreadful feeling melted away.</p><p>"You alright?"</p><p>Juliette opened her eyes – <em>when had she closed them?</em> – and saw a woman with golden curls peering at her anxiously.</p><p>"Are you okay?" the woman repeated herself, holding out a bottle of water, "Here."</p><p>"Uh, thank you, no," mumbled Juliette, shaking her head. She felt the heat coloring her face. "I'm fine. I'll just..."</p><p>She trailed off, unsure of what to do. Shaking her head again, Juliette pushed past the Muggle woman and let herself be dragged by the throng of people walking along the sidewalks.</p><p>Juliette gulped.</p><p>The familiar feeling of dread washed over her as she rounded the corner and turned into a new street.<em> No, no, no, no</em>, chanted her mind as she walked, barely registering where her feet were taking her. She had been fine that morning, as fine as she had been for weeks prior to now. <em>Why was it happening now? </em>She wanted to weep.</p><p>Her hands were clammy, slipping against the leather when she tightened her hold on her satchel and weaved through a dense crowd along Whitehall. Its cobblestone sidewalk was packed with Muggles who scrambled in all directions, walking as fast as their feet would carry them. Some chatted loudly with their partners, while others panted as they ran across London; then there were Muggles who strolled casually, sipping something from brown paper cups or smoking cigarettes. Juliette felt her stomach lurch; the fresh surge of nausea made her dizzy as she tried to see where she was headed.</p><p>"Oi! Watch out you nutt- ah, sorry miss," a man grumbled under his breath as he collided with Juliette and pushed past her in haste. He was gone before she could say a word.</p><p>She had scarcely walked two feet when she found her path being obstructed by Muggles again. This time, a small group of middle aged men had stepped right in front of her; they were all slim and balding, wearing tan and gray Muggle robes. <em>Suits</em>, Juliette recalled distractedly, <em>they're called suits</em>. A waft of woody, citrusy, perfumes invaded her senses as the men awkwardly shuffled around to walk past her, narrowly avoiding brushing against her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder to see they were all holding a leather bag in one hand and a small, white paper bag in the other.</p><p>"Ouch!" exclaimed Juliette, her shoulder suddenly throbbing in pain. Another man had bumped into her. This one was tall and hefty, particularly around the middle, and he left her shoulder aching where his body had collided with hers. He was wearing bright red pants and a very floral patterned shirt with the top few buttons undone so that a considerable portion of his hairy chest was on display. Juliette tried masking her grimace, but the man wouldn't have noticed anyway - he was deeply engrossed in a newspaper, his dark eyes roaming across the page as he offhandedly mumbled, "Sorry about that," and walked on.</p><p>Juliette clenched her jaw as she walked towards a small cafe. It seemed empty, and there was cool air wafting from inside its open doors. She stumbled inside as red and white began dancing before her eyes again.</p><p>"Wha-"</p><p>"Hey, watch where you're going!" snapped Juliette, rubbing her temples angrily as she felt herself collide with someone yet again.</p><p>"Someone's having a bad day," said a man who sounded very amused. "Two Earl Grey's, and how about a slice of battenberg, Mr. MacDonald?"</p><p>"Aye, thank you," another man rumbled. By the sound of his wheezy voice, he must have been considerably old. Juliette turned to see him but spun on the spot, her vision blurring around the edges. Seeing scarlet, she reached out and gripped the back of the nearest chair.</p><p>"Ye alright, lass?" the wheezy voice asked.</p><p>She shook her head, unable to say anything.</p><p>"Is she okay? She dinna look okay," the same man said to his companion. "I-"</p><p>"It's alright, Mr. MacDonald, don't worry yourself," the first man replied smoothly. He had a rather sonorous voice and spoke in a very posh accent, Juliette noted. "You'll be late for the meeting with the M- uh, the Minister. I'll see to it that this young lady here gets help."</p><p>"Oh, would ye be so kind?" the man called MacDonald breathed in relief. "I really must get going if I'm to be there on time. Best not keep the Prime Minister waiting."</p><p>"Of course, sir. Shall I leave your tea with your secretary, back at the office?"</p><p>"You dinna worry about that. I'll ask Rosie to make me another one. Just... help this lass, eh? And then get back to work," MacDonald replied, adding, "Good man ye are, Augustus, good man."</p><p>"It's absolutely nothing, sir," the deep-voiced man replied. "I'll see you at the hearing this afternoon."</p><p>A soft clicking sound indicated that the other man, the wheezy one, had departed the cafe. Juliette was taking in gulps of cold air when a pair of brown, gleaming shoes swarmed into her view as the man she'd slammed into  came to stand before her.</p><p>"Shall I call someone?" asked the man shortly. He almost sounded bored. She blinked up at him, finding him standing closer than she'd assumed. He was tall and slim, with a long face and sharp jaw, and tiny lines forming around his steely eyes. His dark hair had been combed and set meticulously, and he wore a dark muggle suit. She noticed the smell of sage and pepper lingering in the air as he took a step away from her.</p><p>Her mind seemed to be whirring at an agonizing pace, whilst slowing down incredibly at the same time. She searched for words but none seemed to reach her tongue. Juliette gripped her head in pain and frustration.</p><p>"Sit," the man ordered quietly. She glanced up at him again and saw his face contorted into a grimace. His hand jerked forwards, hovering above her elbow but he did not grasp it.</p><p>"Sit down," he repeated, a bit more firmly this time.</p><p>Juliette sunk into the chair she had been leaning against; her head was throbbing so painfully now that she was certain she'd pass out soon. Hunched over, she saw Augustus' feet shift. Then –</p><p>"Hey, you," he snapped sharply. The sound made Juliette's head spin. Moments later, a server came tottering over.</p><p>"Sir?" a timid, soft voice asked.</p><p>The man pointed to Juliette as he said, "this girl's not well. See to it she gets help, will you?"</p><p>The server mumbled something quickly before she hurried away and returned with a glass of iced water which she thrust into Juliette's shaking hands. Juliette took a small sip and as the icy water ran down her parched throat and cleared her head a little, she heard the steady tap of Augustus' shoes against the pristine floor, growing fainter as he walked away.</p><p>"Thank you, sir," she called after him weakly, still unable to see clearly.</p><p>If he had heard her, he didn't reply.</p><p>The cafe door shut behind the tall stranger with a soft chime, and for the second time that day, Juliette felt the sickness pass as quickly as it had come over her.</p><hr/><p>By the time Sirius left the Hogwarts kitchens, it was nearly time for dinner. He hadn't meant to stay that long, but somewhere between the copious amounts of ham sandwiches and fruit tarts brought to him by the house elves, and the comfortable corner by the fireplace where he'd sat, Sirius had lost track of time. He'd sat there listening to a couple house elves talk about preparation for the end of term feast, munching on his sandwiches and tinkering with the Marauders Map. It was only when one of the older house elves, Tilly, called for the other house elves to begin readying the food to be sent upstairs did Sirius realize he'd been in the kitchens for far too long.</p><p>The sound of students milling about the Entrance Hall above drifted down, sounding much like a faint buzzing. The kitchen door concealed itself behind him once more as Sirius peered around the corridor.</p><p>Apart from a group of Hufflepuff first years who stood under one of the candelabras reading something that looked like the Muggle picture books Peter had been so fond of, there were hardly any students around. Sirius strolled past the group of Hufflepuffs, nodded at one of the prefects walking in the opposite direction, and turned into a large corridor, at the end of which stood the grand staircase that led to the Entrance Hall above.</p><p>His stomach turned.</p><p>There, near the foot of the stairs, stood a group of sixth year boys, all of whom he knew by name. Even in the dim candle light that bathed the basement, Sirius could see the green ties fastened around their necks.</p><p>The boys didn't seem to notice Sirius loitering at the corner of the corridor for they seemed to be busy arguing about something, whispering urgently and pointing to each other. Then, one of them - a tall, brown haired boy with an angular face,<em> Silas Nott</em> - swore loudly and turned towards the staircase. The other boys began to follow him, though their whispers did not cease.</p><p>Sirius hurried forward.</p><p>"Reg?" he called out loudly, albeit a little hesitantly. Vaguely, Sirius was glad that at least his voice didn't waver like it had the last time.</p><p>A lean, black-haired boy whipped around, his steely gray eyes meeting Sirius' in surprise. He looked at Sirius for a moment before turning back to his friends.</p><p>Sirius was undeterred, calling his brother again, "Reg? Have a minute?"</p><p>His brother looked over his shoulder, his face impassive. Sirius knew he was hesitant to talk to him in front of the other Slytherin boys. By now, most of the people in Slytherin would have heard of what he'd done last summer.</p><p>Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sirius added, "Please?"</p><p>The boys all turned to look at him now. Regulus's blank face cracked for a moment, and surprise shone through. Then Sirius blinked, and the stony mask had slipped back on his brother's face.</p><p>They looked at one another for a long moment, then, with a very visible sigh, Regulus turned to his friends and said something, gesturing towards the staircase lazily as he did so. The other boys all scowled at whatever it was Regulus had said to them but left without another word, though not before throwing reproachful looks in Sirius' direction, who somehow managed to refrain himself from rolling his eyes.</p><p>As he drew closer to the younger boy, the first thing Sirius noticed was that his brother had gotten taller over the past year. A silly observation, he knew, but it was true. The last time he'd stood this close to Regulus, his brother had been a whole head shorter than him. Now, Regulus was almost as tall as him. It was disconcerting, a painful reminder of the fact that they were separated by more than just school Houses now; that they hadn't spoken to one other in nearly a whole year.</p><p>"How..." Sirius faltered, a wave of nervousness washing over him. He wanted to say many things, ask even more questions. But none made their way to his tongue. Regulus seemed oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts racing through Sirius' mind.</p><p>"How are you?" he finally asked when nothing else came to mind. It seemed like a good place to start, a polite question. <em>Too polite</em>, a voice in his head whispered, <em>he'll see right through you.</em></p><p>A hollow laugh, cold and empty and far too similar to their father's, reverberated in the corridor as Regulus sniggered. A pair of Hufflepuffs gave them odd looks as they passed by. In an oddly stiff voice, Regulus replied, "Very well, thank you. Yourself?"</p><p>Sirius gulped. "Reg... I-"</p><p>"You're looking well," his brother interrupted, a frown lining his pale face. He searched Sirius' face for a long moment, then said, "I have to go."</p><p>Regulus had already walked several feet towards the staircase when Sirius, his mind made up, ran after his brother.</p><p>"Wait. Wait! <em>Wait!</em>" said Sirius, skidding to a halt behind Regulus and tugging on his arm. "Listen."</p><p>"Oh, right. That's my job, isn't it. <em>To listen</em>? Well, I did just that! I heard everything last summer," Regulus spat, his eyes burning. "Or have you forgotten all about that?"</p><p>Sirius blanched. "You don't understand..."</p><p>"I don't understand?" Regulus' voice dropped to a whisper, "Me?" He looked angrier than Sirius had ever seen the younger boy; Regulus was the one to not have inherited the family temper, or at least he hadn't inherited their penchant of displaying it.</p><p>Shaking his head, Regulus said, in an even tone, "You know what, fine. I never understood before, and I never will. So stop trying to make me understand, and leave me alone."</p><p>He took a step back, fully intent on fleeing the corridor, but Sirius was quicker.</p><p>"Why won't you listen to me?" hissed Sirius, seizing his brother by the shoulders and shaking him. "I keep trying to talk to you, but you won't listen."</p><p>"Listen to what?" exclaimed Regulus as he fought feebly against the hold Sirius had on him. "Look. You had a choice and you made it, for you and for me. You look happy with what you did, and I'm happy for you. But you can't force me to-"</p><p>"Reg, they'll destroy you," Sirius cut in. Time was short, as it was. "You don't understand what you'll be getting into if you..."</p><p>"If I what?" prodded Regulus, his nostrils flaring, a brow rising into an elegant arch. He looked as if he was daring Sirius to finish his sentence.</p><p>Sirius narrowed his eyes. "If you join Voldemort."</p><p>Regulus flinched, and Sirius felt his stomach lurch at the unwelcome confirmation of his worst fears. For a moment, it seemed as if his brother too was upset, bemused even; he looked even paler than usual. But then Regulus quickly regained his composure and, clearing his throat, he said, "You don't know what you're talking about, Sirius, or what I'm going to do."</p><p>"I'm not stupid," hissed Sirius, taking a step closer to his brother and watching apprehension flicker in those gray eyes. "I see you hanging around those Mulciber boys and that Nott kid, you know? I've seen you whispering with Avery and Carrow-"</p><p>"Don't you have better things to do than spying on me?" interrupted Regulus exasperatedly, but Sirius ignored him.</p><p>"Do you think I don't know what they're planning to do this summer?" Sirius pressed on, searching his brother's face for some sign of confusion, any sign to reassure him that Regulus was not, after all, as ignorant or foolish as the rest of their family. "They aren't exactly keeping it quiet, are they? Tell me you aren't as thick headed as the rest of those idiots."</p><p>"What they do is none of your concern," retorted Regulus in a curt tone.</p><p>"No, but you are–"</p><p>"I'm not," said Regulus firmly. Sirius wanted to protest but something about the way Regulus was staring made him stop. Taking a shuddering breath, Regulus added, "I'm not your concern anymore. You made sure of that when you left and ran to Potter."</p><p>"You can't blame me for–" began Sirius but Regulus pressed on.</p><p>"And you don't get to play victim all the time! Stop pitying yourself," Regulus half-yelled, his voice echoing down the now empty corridor. "You never even tried to get along with everyone, Sirius. You never tried to fit in, to do the right thing."</p><p>"The right thing?" It was Sirius' turn to laugh. "You think what our parents are doing is the right thing? You think supporting Voldemort — oh stop flinching, you ninny! You think supporting him is the right thing? He's a murderer, Voldemort is. That's who you're supporting. All that nonsense about blood purity? Yeah, bullshit."</p><p>Regulus scoffed. "You know so little about what the Dark Lord wants, what he means to do. He means to free us, Sirius. He means to give us the freedom we deserve, but people like you can't see beyond the present, can't imagine a world where-"</p><p>"Where muggleborns are dead and witches and wizards can kill as they like?"</p><p>"A world where we don't have to hide. Where those from magical bloodlines can practice true magic without it being tainted by muggle ideas."</p><p>"Are you even listening to yourself, Reg?" asked Sirius, horrified, "Or is it a part of the Death Eater induction ceremony that you surrender all common sense?"</p><p>In the distance, a loud bell echoed, signaling the start of dinner. Above them, the castle seemed to come alive as hundreds of footsteps made their way to the Great Hall.</p><p>"You think you're above us, don't you?" snarled Regulus, "You think you're so different, so special from the rest of the family because a stupid hat decided to have some fun when sorting you? Hate to break it to you, but you're wrong." Regulus was breathing harder now, his face red with anger. Sirius knew he looked the same; he could feel the rage burning through his veins. "You're more like us than you think, Sirius."</p><p>Looking both affronted and thoroughly disgusted, Regulus straightened his robes and moved away from Sirius who did not follow this time. He stood rooted to his spot, pale and clammy. He could feel his heart thundering against his ribs as though he'd run a dozen laps around the Quidditch pitch. His brother's words swirled around his head, vicious and poisonous, hissing and taunting him again and again. He wanted to scream at his brother, to defend himself, to make Regulus understand that he'd caught the wrong end of the stick. But more than anything else – and it hurt to even admit this to himself – Sirius wanted to know if Regulus was right after all.</p><p>"You'll see," said Regulus finally, sounding oddly calm, "You never belonged in our family, but you're woefully mistaken if you think you belong with Potter's or the rest of that lot."</p><p>With one last, searing look at him, Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared up the staircase, leaving Sirius with nothing but the bitter thoughts that would keep him company for the rest of the week, perhaps even longer.</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. V.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❨ chapter five.❩<br/>❛ <b><em>a</em></b><b><em> grim</em></b><b><em> evening </em></b>❜</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Hogwarts.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>7:00 pm</em>
</p><p>A cacophony of voices erupted at the sight of him.</p><p>"Hallelujah!"</p><p>"He's alive!"</p><p>"Where have you been?"</p><p>"Don't tell me sneaked off to the Three Broomsticks without me, Padfoot!"</p><p>"Can you, just for a day, not break a dozen school rules?"</p><p>"Let him live a little, Evans?"</p><p>"Oi! Did I hear Potter correctly? You went to Hogsmeade, mate?"</p><p>"How'd you do that?"</p><p>"Forget them. Did you get me some jellies? I told you to get me some the next-"</p><p>"Are you ever going to be on time for something?"</p><p>"Don't fling your bag like that. Jesus!"</p><p>"No, the name's Sirius," the boy panted as he slid into his seat beside James. "Sorry, McKinnon, didn't poke your eye out with the bag, did I?"</p><p>Marlene McKinnon glared at him then turned back to her doe-eyed friend, Susan Ollerton. <em>Or was it Sarah Ollerton?</em></p><p>Sirius found that he didn't care. She might have been the Singing Sorceress Celestina Warbeck herself, for all he cared. His eyes moved to the Slytherin table, seemingly of their own accord; Regulus was busy shoveling his dinner while Silas Nott kept whispering to him. A fresh wave of anger washed over him at the sight.</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Sirius reached for a glass pitcher nearby and poured himself a goblet of cold water.</p><p>"Did I miss anything?" he asked distractedly, mumbling a thanks to Peter who laddled a hearty serving of mashed potatoes onto Sirius' plate.</p><p>"Nah," replied James, pushing a plate of chicken drumsticks towards Sirius who piled some before him, "It's been boring as usual. And surprise, surprise. Dumbledore's not here again."</p><p>Sirius glanced up at the teachers table, and sure enough, the Head Master's seat remained empty. Sirius had occasionally seen the old man at breakfast these past couple of weeks, but more often than not, Dumbledore's chair remained unoccupied.</p><p>Sirius reached for the basket of bread, buttering it rather aggressively.</p><p>"What d'you reckon he's up to? Hasn't been around much this year, has he?" remarked James.</p><p>"Bet he's off doing something related to the war," mumbled Sirius around a mouthful of chicken, bread potatoes.</p><p>"You bet?" replied James drily. Peter shot them a grin.</p><p>"Where were you?" a voice hissed from James' side. Sirius peered around his best friend to see Lily Evans' green eyes glaring at him.</p><p>Sirius shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know, Evans."</p><p>"James was worried sick," she said sternly, "He was about to leave dinner to look for you, you know?"</p><p>The tips of James' ears turned pick as Peter smirked.</p><p>"Come off it, Evans," he muttered, "there's no need to exaggerate."</p><p>Sirius grinned at the pair of them. "Evans, you're losing your touch, I'm afraid."</p><p>She frowned. "I'm sorry?"</p><p>"Don't be," said Sirius, "Just work on keeping this one," he pointed his fork at James, "focused on you, yeah? Don't know why he's thinking about me when you're right there."</p><p>"What on earth are you on about?" asked Lily.</p><p>"Nothing," said James before Sirius could reply.</p><p>"He only means James doesn't ever think of anything but you when you're around," added Remus with a grin as he finished talking to Sturgis Podmore about Puddlemere United's new keeper. "Come to think of it, Lily, I don't think he thinks of much else even when you're not around. I don't dare ask what's going through his head, mind you."</p><p>"Yeah, you don't need any more scarring, do you?" added Peter from beside Remus in a whisper so low even James, Sirius, and Lily could barely hear him. But hear they did, for Remus and Sirius both snorted into their plates, while Lily scoffed loudly, and James muttered something inaudible under his breath before busying himself with dinner once more.</p><p>Sirius exchanged gleeful looks with Remus and Peter, who shook his head fondly. James and Lily had only been going out for a couple weeks now, and the boys were yet to cease teasing the two about it. Sirius felt their reactions were well warranted. James Potter - who had not so long ago been pining after the very girl whose hand he was now holding under the table - was dating Lily Evans - who had not so long ago made it very clear she'd rather kiss the Giant Squid instead. The notion of James and Lily dating was still far too ridiculous for any of them to fully accept, and truth be told, none of them were sure how it had come about.</p><p>When they'd first begun going out, Sirius had half expected James to give into his questioning and reveal that it had all been an elaborate prank of his and Lily's. But the days melted into weeks, and here they were. Potter and Evans, as the school called them, together and happy.</p><p>It was ridiculous. <em>Sweet</em>, Sirius thought, <em>but ridiculous</em>.</p><p>Remus, who had evidently decided they didn't need to tease James and Lily anymore today - turned to Sirius, steering the conversation in an entirely new (and less welcome, Sirius would soon realize) direction.</p><p>"Say, Sirius. Peter said you'd gone down to the kitchens, but that was a while ago. What were you up to?" asked Remus curiously.</p><p>"I could ask you the same," retorted Sirius, his voice surprisingly even. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his delightful meeting with Regulus. Deciding to steer the conversation in another direction, Sirius nodded his head toward the teacher's table and asked, "What did McGonagall want with you?"</p><p>"Oh," Remus looked taken aback but only for a moment. Then he returned to his dinner and shrugged, revealing, "she just wanted to talk about my plans after Hogwarts."</p><p>"What did you say?"</p><p>"Nothing that wasn't true."</p><p>"What did she say?"</p><p>"Nothing I haven't heard a hundred times before," said Remus slowly, reaching for his goblet and taking a huge swig of pumpkin juice. He seemed to contemplate his next words while he swallowed a mouthful of bread. "I'd rather not discuss the finer points of the meeting, actually. It was all rather tedious, if you ask me."</p><p>"What was tedious?"</p><p>Sirius looked up at the sound of a silvery voice. A rather pretty girl with short, dirty blonde hair was standing behind Remus, a blue and bronze tie lay unknotted and loose around her neck. Her hands were braced on either side of her waist, and she was looking down at them with a grin on her face that revealed the dimples in her cheeks.</p><p>"Kane," drawled Sirius at the same time as Lily exclaimed, "Aspen! Come, sit."</p><p>"Thank you, but I must get going,"</p><p>"We weren't stopping you in the first place," interrupted Sirius with a small smirk plating at the corner of his lips.</p><p>"No, Black, but your aura just drew me close," replied Aspen drily, throwing her arms wide. "I couldn't resist."</p><p>"I seem to have that effect on a lot of people."</p><p>"Of course you do," she smiled sweetly, "people can't avoid the lure of vices, can they?"</p><p>James snorted into his pudding.</p><p>Sirius reached over and knocked away James' spoon. "Vices make life interesting, Kane."</p><p>"What's your vice then? Being insufferable? Indulging in narcissism? Mastering the art of being hoity-toity?"</p><p>Everyone laughed, even Sirius.</p><p>"Why are you even here, Kane?" he asked finally once they had all regained some semblance of composure, "Apart from ridiculing me, which I know is a hobby of yours."</p><p>"It's called a bad habit, actually," she shrugged, sitting down beside Remus who hastily cleared away his bag to make space for her, knocking over a goblet and sending a knife flying under the table in the process. "I was here to ask if anyone's seen Mary MacDonald. She's a Gryffindor."</p><p>"I've seen her," said James promptly, his hand raised.</p><p>Aspen considered him briefly then narrowed her eyes. "Today, Potter. I know you've seen her before. But has anyone seen her today?"</p><p>"Sad that joke doesn't work anymore," Peter said to James who nodded fervently.</p><p>"She's not feeling well," Lily answered Aspen's question, "I saw her lying by the fireplace in the common room when I'd gone in to put my stuff away earlier."</p><p>"Oh," said Aspen, looking slightly crestfallen, "that's unfortunate."</p><p>"Why were you looking for Mary?" asked Remus.</p><p>"I wanted to ask her if she'd heard from her sister lately," supplied Aspen, frowning slightly now, "she was a Ravenclaw, a year above me. We were quite good friends. I sent her a letter a while ago and she hasn't replied yet. Quite prompt, Annie is. I got a bit worried, that's all. Rather silly of me, really."</p><p>A small silence followed her words. <em>It certainly would have been silly</em>, Sirius thought to himself, <em>had this been a normal time</em>. But times weren't normal, not safe, no matter how warm and welcoming the walls of Hogwarts made the world seem like. The War had ruined so much already, touched so many students' lives, that even the simplest things, like an unanswered letter, were enough to set most people on the edge.</p><p>"I'm sure something must be keeping her busy," said Remus finally, his hoarse voice soft and soothing, "she joined the Ministry, didn't she?"</p><p>Aspen nodded.</p><p>"They're working people like dogs in there," James added, "dad's been complaining about it all year. I'm sure newbies don't have it any easier."</p><p>Aspen didn't look very convinced, but she didn't look too frazzled either. If she was worried at all, Sirius thought she was doing a commendable job of hiding it.</p><p>"Why don't you ask her sister? The one in Ravenclaw with you," said Sirius, his brows furrowing, "What's she, third year? Or fourth, I forget."</p><p>"Third," answered Lily before Aspen could. Lily glanced over her shoulder, scanning the Great Hall. "Yeah, I think she's sitting there by that Burke girl?"</p><p>Sirius looked over his shoulder too, looking for Mary's sister. His eyes – traitorous as they were clearly – found Regulus first, however, who had given up on Nott's whispering and was now chatting to a Slytherin girl with familiar dark hair and big, brown eyes. <em>Lynette Harte</em>, he recalled her name, having met her once or twice during one of his parents' parties on the rare occasion that he was able to attend. <em>Or was it Lydia Harte?</em> Again, he found he did not care.</p><p>"No, I don't think that's wise."</p><p>Sirius turned back to his own table at the sound of Aspen's voice. She was looking rather solemn.</p><p>"Why ever not?" asked James.</p><p>"Their father's Head Auror, isn't he? They're constantly worried something's going to happen to him," sighed Aspen, "I know Mary's little sister, seen her around our common room. Jumpy little thing, she is. Always thinking the worst has happened if a letter is late or some new case shows up in the papers. Just last week she started crying when she read the article about that Unspeakable's family being murdered in Oxford. Took me a dozen tissues, a box of chocolates, and a quarter of my lifespan to calm her down."</p><p>"She sounds delightful to hang around," said Sirius drily. "Poor girl."</p><p>"I don't blame her, mind you, but for both our sakes, I also wouldn't want to add to her worry if I could help it."</p><p>"I'm sure everything's fine," quipped Peter, talking for the first time since Aspen had arrived. At his voice, she started and looked sideways to see the pudgy boy on Remus' other side. Sirius stifled a grin noticing her obvious surprise at Peter's presence. "Mary's sister looks quite happy doesn't she?" They all looked over at the laughing girl. Her blonde curls were bouncing from the force of her laughter. "James is right, your friend's probably just being overworked."</p><p>"You're right, of course. I get riled up for no reason, don't I?" said Aspen, her chirpy voice unnaturally even. With a small sigh, she scrambled to her feet again. "I'll just ask Mary over breakfast tomorrow."</p><p>"I'll let her know you were asking after her if I see her," offered Lily with a ghost of a smile.</p><p>"Thanks, Lily," Aspen smiled at the other girl. She waved goodbye to the rest of them then turned to Remus. "I'll meet you by the portrait of Sir Bredbeddle at quarter past 9, Remus? I have to go up to the hospital wing. One of the girls from my dormitory came down with a fever, so I'm going to see her. I'm afraid I won't be able to start patrolling till after 9."</p><p>Remus nodded eagerly. "Uh, yes. That – that works perfectly, Aspen."</p><p>"Really? Oh, thank you!"</p><p>"You too," said Remus quickly, "I mean, I'll see you then."</p><p>With one last, bright smile at everyone, Aspen was gone, her hair bobbing around her shoulders as she marched across the Great Hall. They all turned back to their dessert, chatting about exams and complaining about the weather. They all resolutely avoided meeting each other's eye, or acknowledging the way Remus' ears had turned pink.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>"You seem rather subdued this evening, Minerva," began Professor Sterling rather conversationally as he refilled their goblets with amber colored mead. "Is everything alright?"</p><p>McGonagall shot him a sharp, knowing look, and Sterling hastily turned back to his dinner.</p><p>"You know we didn't have any other choice," he mumbled apologetically, not meeting McGonagall's piercing gaze. "If there was any other way... none of us are exactly thrilled at the prospect of sending our students into the midst of war, you know?"</p><p>Silence followed his words. Sterling shifted in his seat. He wasn't lying when he told her he was no more happier about recruiting students for the Order than she was. But it seemed for all his good intentions, his words fell on deaf ears. McGonagall was quite plainly aggravated that Dumbledore had agreed with his suggestion; she was likely even more upset that the rest of the Order had voted in favor too. He'd tried reasoning with her on multiple occasions, but, with a sigh, Sterling now decided it was time to resign himself to a lifetime of facing McGonagall's wrath.</p><p>"I know, Bartholomew."</p><p>Sterling choked on his wine. He hadn't been expecting a reply at all, so McGonagall's voice – surprisingly soft (and defeated) as it was – came as an utter shock to him.</p><p>Spluttering, he turned to McGonagall who avoided his gaze as she explained, "I didn't want to agree with you but I must admit, what you suggest is a far better alternative than anything else we've come up with thus far. Not ideal, to be sure, but nevertheless unavoidable."</p><p>"Right..." Sterling trailed off, his mind whirring as he mulled over the older woman's words. Had he heard her correctly? Or was the wine laced with something that made the mind woozy? "Right... So you, uh, aren't angry?"</p><p>McGonagall scoffed. "Undesirable propositions aren't what anger me, Bartholomew. It's inane questions that do the trick."</p><p>Sterling flushed at her words and returned to his dinner. And though embarrassed, he felt much better knowing McGonagall not only agreed with his ideas, but that she no longer would stare daggers at him every time they ran into one another, which, as professors, happened all too often.</p><p>The main courses had disappeared from the tables to be replaced by dishes of treacle tart, cream cakes, fresh fruit, and mounds of strawberry ice cream when Sterling decided to ask McGonagall the one question that had been weighing on his mind all evening.</p><p>"Where is he?" asked Sterling in an undertone. His lips barely moved as the question floated from his mouth.</p><p>McGonagall, who needed no clarification as to which 'he' Sterling was referring to, whispered back, "I haven't the slightest clue, Bartholomew. Last I saw him, he said he'd be travelling tonight, though he didn't mention where to."</p><p>"Oh." The Ancient Runes professor sounded curious. "He's been travelling a lot these past few weeks, hasn't he?"</p><p>McGonagall hummed in agreement but said nothing. Sterling cut himself a slice of a large vanilla cake that was filled with raspberries. He vaguely noted that some of the students were beginning to leave now, though one Ravenclaw girl came bounding into the Great Hall, her bag bouncing over her shoulder and a few books and rolls of parchment clutched in her hand. He felt sorry for her; she'd missed a lovely dinner, poor thing.</p><p>"I think Dumbledore's meeting the Minister for Magic tonight," McGonagall began quietly after a few moments. "He's been thinking about convincing the Auror department to recruit more people. They've barely taken on more than ten people in the past two years, and with the way things are looking..." She involuntarily shuddered. "It's imbecilic to reject perfectly good applicants, to deny them a chance to learn. Ridiculous."</p><p>"Yes, ridiculous indeed. Yes, I agree. But you don't suppose he's found... you know," mumbled Sterling, now making a great show of smiling at McGonagall as though she'd said something most amusing, though they both knew it was highly unlikely anyone would think so. "More members?" His voice had dropped to such a low tone that McGonagall was certain she wouldn't have known he'd said a thing if she hadn't seen his lips move just a smidgen.</p><p>"I have no doubt he's found more <em>potential</em> members," McGonagall corrected him, "what remains to be seen is if they join us. Most of them have turned his offer down, from what I can gather."</p><p>"And what a shame that is," muttered Sterling. "What about whoever it was last week?"</p><p>"No one has joined our cause in the past few months," McGonagall sighed, "Dumbledore told me himself. I was so sure he'd found a new recruit when he went away right after we discussed your proposition that day?" If any hint of an accusation still lingered in her voice, they both ignored it. "He'd seemed so confident whoever it was would accept but alas. People are scared far beyond we thought, Bartholomew."</p><p>The cake suddenly felt like sand in his mouth. Sterling forced himself to swallow. At Hogwarts, between classes and students, he could almost ignore the stone of anxiety that he'd been carrying with him for years now. <em>Almost</em>. Even the warm glow of the Great Hall and the laughter of students around him could not diminish the</p><p>"Come now, Barty, there's no need to waste yourself going down that dark path," said McGonagall not unkindly, "it's always darkest before light, is it not? I'm sure things will look up before long."</p><p>"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" asked Sterling darkly.</p><p>"Yes," replied McGonagall curtly, "I see no point in wasting my energy worrying about what I cannot control, especially when there is work to be done. Besides, moping has never helped a soul, and it most certainly does not suit a professor."</p><p>"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"</p><p>But Professor Sterling never got to finish his apology, for at that very moment, an ear-splitting shriek rang across the Great Hall. He whipped his head around as he got to his feet, hands reaching for his wand on instinct. He surveyed the room and quickly located the source of the scream in a young girl sitting halfway down the Ravenclaw table. Everyone around her was staring at her in alarm. He caught a mere glimpse of her blonde hair and wide eyes, looking horror struck as she stared at a piece of parchment clutched in her hands.</p><p>Sterling stood rooted to his spot even as the other teachers made their way down the Hall. He watched in alarm as the girl's eyes rolled back into her skull, and she swayed dangerously before toppling backwards, falling to the ground with a thud that echoed in the eerie silence that had descended upon the Great Hall.</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. VI.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New chapter, same war. And for once, I'm actually pretty pleased with this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>❨ chapter six.❩<br/>❛ <b><em>of appearances and disappearances</em></b> ❜</p><hr/><p>The forest stretched before him with no end in sight. Rows and rows of enormous, tall Balkan pine trees loomed around him, packed so densely along the forest floor that little sunlight was able to penetrate the canopy overhead. The further he walked into the forest, the stronger the smell of decay and damp earth surrounding him became. The slightly bemused man noticed that the air too was unnaturally chilly given the time of the year. Every now and then an icy breeze would caress its way through the leaves, rustling them gently. But apart from the rhythmic sound of his increasingly harsh breathing, the forest lay silent.</p><p>Stuffing his hands deeper into his coat pockets, he continued to silently stroll through the forest, the picture of his destination burning clearly before his eyes.</p><p>A twig snapped.</p><p>Antonin whipped around, his hands reaching for his wand instinctively, but there was no one. Not for the first time did his mind stray towards thoughts of the dangers that lurked within - and indeed, beyond - this forest. His heart hammered against his chest, a lump rising in his throat as his mind recited all the ways his plan could end in catastrophe, but he swallowed down the flare of apprehension. He had volunteered to take on this task, and while he was many things - several of which others might look down upon - Antonin Dolohov was not a man to abjure his word.</p><p>Clutching his wand tighter, he returned to his path. After about an hour, the putrid scent of rotting moss and decaying animals grew fainter as he left the thick of the forest behind him. The ground, which had seemed woven entirely of fallen foliage and tree trunks of yesteryears, cleared to reveal damp, dark soil that was illuminated by rays of cold sunlight now pouring in through gaps in the forest canopy. The sounds of the forest whispering too were swept away.</p><p>A few more feet, and he knew he'd be in the clearing at whose end stood the abandoned mansion he'd call home for the next few days. And sure enough, mere minutes later, he'd spotted the two olden pine trees that Mr. Lestrange had told him would mark the end of the forest and lead him into the estate grounds. Alone in a forest of lush green, the two trees stood like rusted lamp posts, brown and barren.</p><p>Beyond the trees, however, Antonin could see nothing but miles and miles of the same withered trees he'd been walking around all morning, as well as a dewy mist that kept swirling hypnotically around tree trunks. There were no wasted grounds in sight, nor was the derelict old mansion he'd seen in the photographs at Mr. Lestrange's.</p><p>With a small smile, Antonin approached the barren trees and placed a hand on the trunk of the left one. For a moment, the rough bark underneath his hands glowed warm, but the sensation was gone before he could register it. Nothing happened. The leaves rustled; a bird chirped in the distance; a twig snapped; the wind whistled; he stood still. Antonin's smile wavered, apprehension clawing its way back into his heart, but he didn't let it deter him.</p><p>Glancing over his shoulder, Antonin surveyed the forest again, ensuring that he was not being followed. When not so much as a fly flew overhead, the young man turned back to the two trees. With a deep inhale, he let go of the trunk and walked through the space between the trees.</p><p>In an instant, he was gone.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with curious agitation. Following the collapse of Mary MacDonald's sister at dinner earlier that evening, the students had all been ushered back to their respective common rooms, whilst the professors and Mary took the unconscious girl up to the hospital wing. All the Prefects had been asked to patrol the corridors and ensure the nightly curfew — which had begun frightfully early tonight — was not broken by anyone.</p><p>As the whole of Gryffindor house waited together anxiously for the Head Boy, the Head Girl, or their Prefects to turn up with answers, people couldn't help but theorize what was in the letter which caused the MacDonald girl to faint. No one knew for certain what had happened, of course, but everyone seemed to have a pretty good idea as to the nature of information held within the now infamous letter. It was no good news, that much was clear. Nearly everyone thought someone close to the MacDonald's had died. Some — and these were very few people — also considered kidnapping or illnesses. Whatever the case, their best hope was the return of the Gryffindor prefects, none of whom seemed to be in a rush to arrive. And so they all waited, fiddling with textbooks and whispering to friends, which was how Sirius and Peter also found themselves sitting in the far corner of the room, though they did not bother to even pretend to be studying for their upcoming exams.</p><p>It was a mark of how anxious and intrigued everyone was that by the time midnight rolled around, most, if not all, of the Gryffindors were still waiting for someone to answer their burning questions.</p><p>Finally, at a quarter to 1, when most chatter had died down and sleep had at last begun to claw its way through all the anticipation, the door to the portrait hole swung open. Sirius caught one, fleeting look at the hunched form of Remus before his view was obstructed by the students around him, all of whom suddenly jostled around a room to crowd around the prefect.</p><p>The commotion that ensued made Sirius' head spin.</p><p>"What happened down there?" asked a gangly fifth year boy, Damien McKinnon.</p><p>Vanya Deverill, a fellow seventh year, bellowed, "FINALLY!"</p><p>Sirius didn't even know the names of some people who were yelling now.</p><p>"Is her family okay?"</p><p>"Blimey, we've been waiting for one of you to show up!"</p><p>"What happened to the girl?"</p><p>"What did you hear?"</p><p>"Tell us everything."</p><p>Sirius and Peter fought their way to the front of the room where what looked like half the Gryffindor house was hounding a pale and exhausted looking Remus with questions. The rest of them stood back, though they were all yelling and talking as well.</p><p>"Give him some space," yelled Peter over the heads of a bunch of anxious third year girls. "Stop yelling at him!"</p><p>No one listened. They were all pressing in on Remus who was mumbling something and shaking his head.</p><p>"Hey, move it, midgets!" Marlene McKinnon roared as she began pulling people by their arms and shoving them away from Remus. "Move over or you'll wish you were never born!"</p><p>Her empty threats did not deter the enthusiasm of the other students by an ounce. If anything, it only brightened the mood for some, who laughed appreciatively at the scowling girl. They were still hurling questions and theories at Remus who'd given up on trying to answer.</p><p>Sirius swore under his breath and looked around the room.</p><p>"HEY!" Sirius barked as he climbed onto a table. He clapped his hands sharply before barking, "Everyone shut up! Move back, and let Remus through. If he's not sitting down within 20 seconds, I swear to Merlin, I'll burn off something far worse than just your eyebrows. Don't think I won't do it, you hear me?!"</p><p>Everyone had. They had stopped talking once Sirius had begun shouting and were now watching him with displeased expressions.</p><p>"Right, who's first?" asked Peter in a falsely cheerful tone when no one moved. "Malcolm? Jaxon? Bet Henry would look great without that shiny blonde mop he calls hair."</p><p>There was a moment of silence, then, with a great deal of mumbling and ever more affronted looks towards Sirius and Peter, everyone hastily shifted around to allow Remus some space.</p><p>Every eye in the common room followed Remus' movements as he maneuvered around plush armchairs and couches.</p><p>"You alright?" asked Peter in a low voice as Remus reached them.</p><p>The weary prefect nodded.</p><p>"Whenever you're ready then," said Sirius quietly, knowing there was no way anyone would let the prefect return to his dormitory without first giving them some answers. And if he were being honest, Sirius too wanted to hear what had happened at dinner.</p><p>Remus' eyes swept over Sirius and Peter once, then with a heavy sigh, he turned to face the others. A hush fell over the room as everyone looked expectantly at him.</p><p>"Right, so, uh, what happened tonight was... well, you all saw Mary's sister, Margo, faint at dinner," Remus began, wringing his hands as he spoke, "and are clearly worried. Well, it's rather unfortunate what happened, but it seems that their elder sister, Annie MacDonald, and brother, Tobias MacDonald, have gone missing."</p><p>There were gasps and sighs, whispers, and more hissing from the gathered crowd.</p><p>Remus raised his voice as he continued, "They both worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and were out in the field when they went missing. No one knows anything more as of now. There is to be an announcement regarding the disappearances in tomorrow's Prophet. That's why Mary and her sister received a letter this evening by urgent mail instead of regular post tomorrow morning. Margo - Mary's sister - has been given a sleeping potion to get her through the night. Our Head Girl is staying with Mary in the hospital wing for tonight. The Head Boy should be back soon."</p><p>No sooner had the words left Remus' mouth that the door to the common room swung open again. This time, a weary James Potter stumbled in.</p><p>Several people twitched, as though to now run to the messy haired boy for answers, but after shooting furtive glances at Sirius and Peter — both of whom stood on either side of Remus, glowering around the room with wands clutched in their hands — everyone stayed put.</p><p>If James noticed the odd tension around the room, he did not acknowledge it.</p><p>Coming to stand beside Remus, he asked in a low voice, "You told them?"</p><p>Remus nodded.</p><p>"Spiffing," mumbled James as he turned to the assembled crowd. His voice sounded hoarse, and Sirius could sense the exhaustion lacing his tone when James began talking to the room at large. "You've all heard then? Good. Now, uh, needless to say, no one is encouraged to go pestering the MacDonald's for any reason. It's been decided that the best thing we can do to support them during this difficult time is to not make things any harder or cumbersome."</p><p>Sirius had the distinct impression that even though it was James' voice echoing around the common room, those were McGonagall's words they were hearing.</p><p>"Everyone is advised to behave as normally as possible around the MacDonald sisters. That includes no pitying glances, no skirting around them in corridors, no talking behind their backs, and no sudden hushes when they walk into a room."</p><p>James paused for a breath, and Remus added, "That is not to say you shouldn't be careful around them. Insensitivity towards them is not in anyone's best interests. Be mindful you don't make comments regarding their missing siblings, or anything else that might upset them. But other than that, be yourselves. Be kind, be courteous, be careful."</p><p>The dull nods and half shrugs served as another reminder for Sirius that this wasn't the first time they'd heard the speech after all. Everything James and Remus had said had already been heard by everyone in the common room; the words were different, but their message remained the same every time.</p><p>"Why didn't they send it to Mary?" asked a small voice. Sirius turned and saw it was a tiny girl, probably a first or second year, who had spoken, her hand raised in the air as she elaborated, "She's older, so I assumed it would have been sent to her?"</p><p>"It was, Trixie," said James tiredly though not unkindly. "The letter arrived at the school owlery addressed to Mary MacDonald. The student supposed to hand it to Mary could not find her at dinner, and so decided to give it to her sister instead."</p><p>"Professor McGonagall will be addressing the school tomorrow over breakfast," said Remus quickly, seeing new hands in the air. "You'll learn everything you need to know then. Now, if you'll excuse us, James and I should probably head to bed. As should the rest of you."</p><p>When no one moved, Remus shot a warning look at James, who rolled his eyes. Still, he turned back to the crowd and said, "Yeah, go to bed, alright? Everyone's had a rough few hours, and we'll all need some sleep before exams tomorrow."</p><p>The mention of exams elicited a loud groan from everyone.</p><p>"I'm sorry!" yelled James over the angry mumbling, "But it's not my fault you're all nosy gits who stayed awake till now. Oi, shut it Fletchley! Now, stop asking questions and mouthing curses at me — yes, I meant you Boyd — and go to bed before you waste another hour that you could otherwise be using to sleep."</p><p>Without so much as another glance, Remus and James headed towards the stone staircase that led up to the boys dormitories, leaving Sirius and Peter to hurry along in their wake. Irritated grumbles and curious questions followed the boys all the way up the stone stairs.</p><p>"Stupid girl," mumbled Sirius later as the four boys trudged into their dormitory, "why would she give it to Mary's sister? They're not even in the same house."</p><p>"The girl thought Mary's sister would keep it safe until the next day," Remus explained with a sigh as he shrugged off his robes, "She couldn't just hand over the letter to any Gryffindor, you know? Anyways, Mary's sister said she recognized their father's scrawl on the envelope and couldn't help but open it. Said she knew something bad had happened."</p><p>"She wasn't wrong on that account," said James darkly as he fell onto his bed. "Rotten what happened to them."</p><p>"I'm sure it's not going to be that bad. They're missing, right?" asked Peter quietly. He was perched at the edge of his bed, one arm in his nightshirt. "Means they're alive, wherever they are. It's only a matter of time before the Aurors find them."</p><p>The other boys exchanged looks, and they knew instantly that none of them believed the MacDonald kids would ever be found. People had been disappearing for several months now, and not once had anyone been found. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that while missing people had indeed been found, none had been found alive.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>13 Maplebrook St.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>London.</em>
</p><p>As the sun settled and gave way to darkness, Juliette found herself shivering against the light breeze wafting in through the slightly ajar windows of her bedroom. Drawing the blanket closer to her chest, she settled deeper into the bed where she had spent the entire day after waking up to a piercing headache to accompany the constant feelings of loneliness and confusion that had been gnawing at her for the past week.</p><p>With a frustrated sigh, she turned her head sideways, and her gaze fell upon a large cup of cold tea. The mug was dark blue color that had icy blue and silver vines running along the length of it and had been a gift from Lynette. <em>Heaven knows you'll need all the cups you can get</em>, she'd said brightly as she'd stowed the set of mugs away in a kitchen cabinet, <em>seeing as you consume tea as though it were water</em>. Juliette couldn't remember drinking tea at all in the last few days; she couldn't remember eating anything at all. Not that she felt like she could stomach anything besides water and chilled apple juice.</p><p>Shifting in her bed to lie on her back, Juliette stared at the ceiling. For as long as she could remember, she had had the fleeting but piercing, head-splitting headaches. They'd always come on unannounced, for no apparent reason, or none that she could name anyway. They'd leave her reeling in pain and confusion, her mind frustratingly addled as she tried to piece together the fragments that flashed before her eyes while the pains lasted. It was an odd illness she'd inherited, amongst other peculiar traits, such as her affinity for modern music, a disregard for polite pleasantries, and, of course, a lack of magic; it was an illness that no one else in her family had fallen prey to.</p><p>When she had been younger, Juliette had been seen by many healers; some came to diagnose the reason for her headaches; many came to deduce why she hadn't shown signs of magic. No one had ever found an explanation for either question. And so it was that Juliette had spent her entire life pondering over - and hiding - her shortcomings, of which evidently there were many.</p><p>Lynette's disapproving voice echoed in her mind as she thought this. <em>It's just the family hysteria that's making you think this way</em>, she'd say each time Juliette confided in her sister her many fears.</p><p>As though a jolt of lightning had struck her, Juliette sat upright. <em>Lynette</em>.</p><p><em>Of course</em>, thought Juliette, pressing a hand to her forehead, <em>Lynette would know what to do, or at least she'd know what to say</em>. No one else would ever understand what Juliette was going through, but her sister would.</p><p>With a sudden burst of energy that she hadn't felt in a long while, Juliette sprang to her feet and, ignoring the pounding in her head, rummaged through the desk in the corner of her room for parchment and ink.</p><p>For the better part of the next hour, she sat at her desk, scribbling and scratching as she pondered over her words. When at last she'd finished, Juliette read over the letter once before she went to fetch Phorcys to deliver it:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Lynette —</em>
  <br/>
  <em>            I hope you're doing alright. Semester must nearly be over, wouldn't it? Good luck for your final exams! I'm sure you're going to ace them. I'm alright too. I've managed to settle into my new home quite well, and I've made friends with the neighbor too, Penelope Bones. Penny, she calls herself. She doesn't know it (I'm careful to not give her any reason to suspect me) but she has been a great help in helping me understand the Muggle world.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For the most part, living in Muggle London isn't too bad. There's so much to do here, and so many places to visit, it almost feels like a very long vacation, not that I'm complaining. It's the most at peace I've ever felt. Yet something rather odd did happen the other day. I was out in London, you see, strolling along one of the nicer districts in St. James, when the aches returned. I don't know what brought it on; everything seemed to have been alright all week. I was really hoping these pains would stop if I moved to the Muggle world, but alas, it seems I was mistaken in thinking I'd ever escape this wretched feeling.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now I know I'm worrying for no reason, but I must still ask: is everything alright? I'm sure it is, or else you or Ellis would've written to me. I'm sure it's nothing. I haven't had these pains for a few months, so I'm a bit shaken by it. I didn't know who else to tell, so I'm afraid you're the one who has to bear my words.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Let me know if you've heard back from the Auror Office! I'm still hoping for good news, even if your previous letter suggests otherwise. Perhaps paranoia runs in the whole family after all? Don't let it get to you; I'm sure you'll end up where you're meant to be, and where you'll do the most good.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All my love,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Juliette.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>p.s. Would you be able to ask Healer Davies to resend me my potions? I'm nearly out of them, and so far, I haven't been able to find a Muggle alternative to them. I know what you're thinking, but there's no point in telling me to continue with St. Mungos. I'm determined to find a doctor (that's what Muggle healers are called; I told you Penny has been most helpful!) that can find something to help my nerves. You wouldn't believe how good these people are when it comes to things like these.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>p.p.s How's Ellis? He hasn't answered my previous letter. Give him my love when you see him?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Feeling quite satisfied with the letter, she sealed it with purple wax and hurried over to Phorcys' cage. Tying the letter around his leg with a piece of twine, she told him, "Take this to Lynette." Cold air rushed in when she flung the window panes open and set Phorcys onto the ledge. "Don't bother her for a response. But if she doesn't give you one soon, keep reminding her, okay? Good boy."</p><p>The large tawny owl hooted softly, affectionately nipping Juliette's hand before taking off into the cold night. Juliette watched Phorcys' silhouette growing fainter and fainter as it flew further and further away. She only looked away once the owl had disappeared into a giant gray cloud whose underside was heavy with unshed rain. She turned to watch the street below uninterestedly. A few kids were milling around the lamp post, smoking cigarettes judging by the cloud of smoke that lingered around them. The street was otherwise deserted.</p><p><em>Ding ding dong</em>. A bell.</p><p>It took Juliette a long moment to realize it was her own doorbell; no one had ever visited her flat before, after all. Well, Penelope had visited a dozen times in the few weeks Juliette had been here, but the rather genteel woman usually came around during the afternoon, and almost exclusively knocked. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly 1am now. Vaguely, she thought it might be her brother. <em>But no</em>, she reminded herself, <em>it couldn't be Ellis</em>. He hadn't come to see her in months, and she knew from Lynette's letters that he'd been far too busy at work to even visit their parents.</p><p>The bell rang again.</p><p>With a wince, Juliette pushed herself from where she stood leaning against the window. Her head still ached, though she didn't know if it was due to the pains she'd been cursed with all her life, or simply because she'd spent the whole day crying and starving herself.</p><p><em>Ding ding dong</em>. <em>Ding ding dong</em>.</p><p>"Yes, yes, I hear you," she muttered under her breath as she gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, still thinking wildly about who could possible visit her at this hour. Perhaps it was one of the neighbors? Mr. Fraser next door had said his wife was expecting, and she's heard Mrs. Fraser had been sickly for weeks now. Maybe they needed help with something?</p><p>Juliette threw on a well-worn dressing robe as she crossed her apartment. Surveying her surroundings, she saw the apartment was mercifully clean and (mostly) organized. A couple cardboard boxes still stood in one corner of the living room, as did a small pile of books that she had yet to sort through and arrange. A quick glance into the kitchenette told her there were no dirty dishes or pots and pans strewn about. Considering she'd barely left her room all week, she supposed the immaculate state her flat was in wasn't nearly as surprising.</p><p><em>Ding ding dong</em>.</p><p>The sharp trilling of the bell was making her head pound. Scowling, Juliette unlocked the door and wrenched it open. "What?!"</p><p>The corridor, which was always bathed in golden light, was dark except for a narrow beam of white light right outside her apartment, illuminating the person who had been knocking. Juliette's eyes widened when she saw who it was.</p><p>There, standing on the other side of her door, wearing purple robes, half-moon spectacles, and a wide smile, was Albus Dumbledore.</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaaaaaaand we're halfway through Act 1!!! I'm so so excited to write the coming chapters, and I hope you'll like them too! Take care everyone. Stay safe :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. VII.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <strong>CHAPTER SEVEN<br/>❛ </strong>
    <em>the proposition. </em>
    <strong>❜</strong>
  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Slack jawed and awestruck, Juliette stood rooted to her spot. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that she ought to greet the famous old wizard standing at her doorstep, yet she found herself incapable of doing anything but staring at Dumbledore, who did not seem deterred in the slightest by her less than warm welcome - or lack thereof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Ms. Harte. I am Albus Dumbledore,” he introduced himself rather unnecessarily, in Juliette’s opinion. “I should, first and foremost, apologize most sincerely for not informing you earlier of my intent to visit. I happened to be crossing over London on my way back from an urgent business and, well, I thought I’d say hello. Is this a bad moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette stared, certain her hearing was failing her. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head, not trusting herself with words yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good,” said Dumbledore cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Juliette’s confusion. He gave his wand a flick, and the light extinguished from its tip. Then he pocketed the wand, clapped his hands together, and said, “Now, I’m going to assume you are a bit startled by my sudden, unannounced appearance, hence why you have not invited me in.” She supposed she looked quite alarmed because Dumbledore raised a hand and shook his head. “No worries, no worries, Ms. Harte. Shall I take it that I am welcome into your charming home? I’ve brought a spice cake that I’m quite partial to. Perhaps you could fix us a pot of tea to go with it. Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette thought she must have nodded because the next moment, Dumbledore had smiled brightly and swept past her and walked into the apartment. Juliette locked the door behind him, still numb from shock. Of all the people she could have ever expected to turn up at her door, Dumbledore had never even crossed her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She followed Dumbledore into her own living room and watched him settle into the chintz armchair by the empty fireplace. She realized belatedly that an icy draught had settled into her apartment over the course of the day, and that the lone lamp in one corner of the room hardly provided sufficient light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps a little warmth would do us good,” said Dumbledore politely as he pulled out his wand from his robes and, pointing it towards the fireplace, gave it a small flick. Before her eyes, a fire roared into life, its flames licking up the white walls and shining off of the many frames that hung across the wall nearest the hearth. The fire had drenched the room in a warm, golden glow. It illuminated the dark, gleaming wood of the coffee table and the curved feet of the armchairs; it brought into view the ivory upholstery of her furniture, the assortment of colorful cushions she had adorned them with, and the plush carpets Lynette had insisted she buy. However, the most startling thing illuminated by the magical fire was the aged, bearded wizard sitting on her sofa. Somehow, seeing Albus Dumbledore in bright light made the entire scenario that much more surreal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted nothing better than to ask him why he had appeared on her doorstep out of the blue, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she could almost hear her mother scowling. Over the many years she’d spent holed up in their family estate, Juliette had seen her mother tend to guests more times than she could count. And so, feeling as though she were nothing but a puppet being steered by the push and pull of invisible threads, Juliette moved towards the fireplace and stopped a few feet away from her unexpected guest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you care for some tea, prof-uh, Mr. Dumbledore?” Juliette stammered, not knowing what to call him. He’d never been her professor, but calling him just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dumbledore</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt rather rude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Dumbledore noticed her reddening face, he chose to politely ignore it. Instead - “That would be most lovely, Ms. Harte. Oh, lest I forget…” Dumbledore stood up and reached into a pocket of his robes, pulling out a square, brown box neatly tied with a string of twine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Orange spice cake,” Dumbledore announced as he handed her the box, “I personally think it pairs with tea very well. I’d love to hear what you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette offered him a shaky ‘thank you’ and slipped into her small but well-stocked kitchen. Putting the kettle on, she poured herself a glass of cold water to ease her racing mind. Much to her dismay, she learned water did not help ease her anxious brain, for when she left her kitchen fifteen minutes later, carrying a tray of tea into the drawing room, she was just as confused and nervous as before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found Dumbledore sitting exactly where she had left him, except he was now engrossed in one of the Muggle novels that crowded her mantle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fascinating, this book,” spoke Dumbledore, not looking up from the book in his hand. The fire glinted against the gold-edged paper, and Juliette realized it was one of the books from the collection of Shakespeare’s works she’d bought shortly after moving into this apartment. “It never ceases to amaze me, the similarities between our world and the Muggle one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” mumbled Juliette, offering Dumbledore a cup of tea, which he took with a small ‘thank you’. She sat opposite him, a cup balanced upon her own knee. “Sir, can I ask you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. “But of course, Ms. Harte.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but why - I mean, how come you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, I should have explained sooner. Your admirable collection of Muggle novels served as quite a distraction to this aging mind, you see,” said Dumbledore calmly, though Juliette couldn’t help but notice the sombre note that had slipped into his voice now. “Now, to answer your question, I am here to discuss a rather delicate matter with you, Ms. Harte. A matter which pertains to the grave situation our world finds itself in presently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” said Juliette, her mind whirring. Then, as though a light had switched on and illuminated everything, Juliette realized what was going on. A nervous chuckle forced past her lips. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong address, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore raised his brows. “Is this not 13 Maplebrooke of London?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ve come to the very place at which I had intended to find myself this evening, Ms. Harte.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she doesn’t live here,” replied Juliette without missing a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who doesn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister, Lynette. Lynette Harte. That’s who you’re here to see, aren’t you?” asked Juliette, a frown creasing her forehead now. “She must still be at Hogwarts. And even after the semester ends, she won’t be coming </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’ll be going back to Wales.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I see.” Dumbledore peered at her from above his half-moon spectacles, those blue eyes staring at her intently. Then he leaned forwards and set down the book that was still clutched in his hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>King Lear</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Juliette read the embossed title. She vaguely recalled that she hadn’t read this particular play yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Well, you see, I am here to see a Ms. Juliette Mara Harte. Now unless you tell me that you are not her, or that she does not live here, I will continue to believe I am in the right place, with the person I’ve come to visit sitting across from me at this very moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette stared at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re here to see me?” she asked blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ms. Harte,” replied Dumbledore, talking slowly and comfortingly, as though she were a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intentionally?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette blinked. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore didn’t answer at first. He seemed to spend an eon mulling over his words before he finally spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juliette,” he began, “I know about your…” Dumbledore hesitated for the briefest moment, looking as though he were searching for the right word, then concluded, “condition, shall we say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A curse more like,” said Juliette before she could stop herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. “I didn’t think it would be easy to live with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette said nothing. Instead, she looked down at her hands wringing in her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it need not be a source for shame either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up, a dozen questions swirling around her tongue, yet none made it past her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “May I ask you something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, still not trusting herself with words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you had any unexplained headaches lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette stiffened; she had not expected him to ask this. Then again, she thought bemusedly, what about this entire encounter had she ever anticipated? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette stared back at Dumbledore, then shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” If it hadn’t been for his solemn expression, she would have thought Dumbledore sounded amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No pains? No flashes of lights or searing headaches? Nothing unusual?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing whatsoever,” lied Juliette, finding that her voice sounded surprisingly convincing to her own ears. “They haven’t happened for months now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither spoke for the next few minutes, during which Juliette had served them both a slice of the spice cake Dumbledore had bought. It tasted lovely, she had to admit to herself, though she could not bring herself to tell Dumbledore the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you,” began Juliette, searching for the words to make her question sound less accusatory than she knew it was in her head, “How do you know about my… headaches?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That knowledge has come from not a very surprising source, I assure you,” answered Dumbledore, “But now is not the time for that tale, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disappointment and anger swirled deep within her, but she forced the feeling down. Eventually, it was Dumbledore who began speaking again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure you are fully aware of the war that has gripped the Wizarding World for nearly the entirety of this past decade. It has been a period of uncertainty and fear. Of anguish and turmoil,” Dumbledore was saying. Had he not been broaching such a morbid topic, she would have laughed - smiled at least - at Dumbledore’s voice that was ever so placid as he spoke, as though he were but remarking upon the gloomy English summer or the rising cost of jelly slugs. “And we have, all of us - the Ministry and the people - been doing everything we can in response to the growing threat of Lord Voldemort.” If Dumbledore saw Juliette flinching, he did not comment on it. “But as much as I value the Ministry and its decisions, I cannot say I have fully agreed with their tactics during these past few years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette half-nodded, half-shrugged to show she understood. She was grateful that Dumbledore could not read her mind - or at least, she hoped he could not - for she hadn’t the faintest idea why he was telling her this. Surely he knew she could be of no help? Moreover, surely he knew the family she came from? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, Juliette,” Dumbledore continued quietly, “I once knew the boy who would go on to become Lord Voldemort. I spoke to him, taught him, observed him. I watched as he learned the many secrets of magic, watched as his ambitions festered, watched as that quiet, lost boy embarked upon the dark path which has brought nothing death and destruction to our world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore paused. Juliette, still perplexed but now intrigued too, watched as he drank the rapidly cooling tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore, and Juliette flinched in spite of herself, “started what has now boomed into a war that has consumed the Wizarding World for nigh on a decade. And while I believe that the only sure way to end this misery is by working together, not everyone is willing to cooperate and cope with what that entails. A lesson that I, alas, sadly learned after my many failed liaisons with the Ministry of Magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what was I to do?” asked Dumbledore, “Keep talking and hoping for the Ministry to take into account the opinion of others, like myself, who have observed and learned the makings of Lord Voldemort’s mind? Or were we to surrender ourselves to the mercy of the Ministry and simply pray we survived?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette didn’t know why she did it, but she found herself shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I did not think so either. I could not sit and watch Lord Voldemort wreck havoc. I could not be a bystander to the Ministry’s efforts. Indeed, there were many others who felt the same.” Dumbledore drew in a long breath, and Juliette sat up a little straighter, her brow furrowed deeply. “And so it was that I began moving against Voldemort and his Death Eaters myself.” Now, she was certain he was purposefully ignoring how she flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord. “Then a few years prior, I assembled a small group of witches and wizards who shared my opinions, who have since been working tirelessly to stop Voldemort from gaining power. This group, society, calls itself the Order of the Phoenix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dull silence filled the space between them. It took Juliette a few minutes to wrap her head around everything Dumbledore had just said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” Began Juliette hesitantly, her heart now beating against her chest frantically. She knew she was jumping to conclusions. There had to be another reason as to why he was telling her all this. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore offered her a small smile. “I am here, Juliette, because I wish to ask you whether you would do me - us - the favor of joining the Order of the Phoenix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another silence, albeit longer this time around, followed his words. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and a faint but incessant tapping against the window panes told Juliette it had started raining again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Juliette was rendered speechless. Surely this was all a misunderstanding. Or it was some elaborate joke. An elaborate, cruel joke. There was no other explanation for what was happening. She had spent eighteen long and painful years being shamed and shunned, all because a wooden stick couldn’t make things fly when placed in her hand. And now, here sat Dumbledore, asking her if she’d like to join a group of witches and wizards, all of whom were most certainly far more skilled than she, to fight a battle she could not hope to win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Juliette blurted the one question overpowering the many others raging in her head. “Why are you asking me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking because -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dumbledore could not explain himself, for Juliette had not stopped talking. She was distantly aware of the fact that she was now rambling, but found she cared not. “What could I ever do for this - this society, sir? This Order of Phoenix?” Juliette was saying, her mind working faster than her mouth could speak. “If you’re here to specifically speak to me, then you must know I can’t…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She faltered. She hated herself for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you must know that I’m… that I’m a squib.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saying the word out loud still made her uncomfortable. She knew exactly what she was, and the others frequently reminded her of what she was not. Yet it did not lessen the pain much, if at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juliette,” started Dumbledore, his voice still serene whereas hers had melted into a quivering whisper. It irked her to no end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, sir, but this makes no sense. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Recruiting witches and wizards, I understand. But what on earth would you need me for? I can’t even make a stupid leaf move!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juliette, listen to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t…” She drew in a sharp breath and said, “You’ve either been misinformed about which Harte sister you should recruit, or this is all some terrible mistake. In any case, while I’m honored to have met you, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is enough, Juliette.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore’s voice reverberated around the room. He didn’t sound angry, but his tone was firm, unyielding, inviting no further questions. It smoothly, swiftly, cut across Juliette’s rambling. “I only ask for a few more minutes of your precious time. Then you may ask as many questions as you like, or you may ask me to leave. Either which way, I will comply wholeheartedly. But I must insist upon you listening first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only after Juliette had reluctantly nodded her assent that Dumbledore spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand if this proposition seems peculiar, unlikely even,” said Dumbledore placatingly, “But you should know I have given this a great deal of thought, and I am certain that you would be of immense help to the Order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you cannot do magic,” he continued, raising a hand to stop Juliette from speaking, “but magic, useful as it may seem, is not a determinant of one’s value, nor a measure of one’s talents. You do not possess magic in its traditional form, yes, but you do have a magical bloodline, do you not? That, in its own right, marks you as a member of the Wizarding world. You may have been born a squib, yet you possess other skills, other knowledge, which would be considered priceless by many.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small scoff escaped her, and Juliette was agitated enough to not care about how rude the action might have been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore, evidently, did not mind however, for he pressed on, “I am aware that our world has not been kind to you.” Juliette’s lip trembled, and she looked away. “It is neither fair, nor forgivable. And yet, centuries have crawled by and still we hold on to those arcane beliefs that have brought nothing but shame and sorrow upon us all. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dumbledore trailed off. Juliette glanced at him and found him staring into the crackling fire, lost in thoughts that she knew not but whose impact was etched clearly on his aged, lined face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?” She prompted him, cautious and unsure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a younger sister,” he revealed quietly, “Ariana. A sweet, compassionate girl, she was. She was talented at great many things, but she, not unlike you, did not possess magic in its traditional form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette’s mouth fell open. She knew she made a comical sight, but for the umpteenth time that evening, she found she did not care. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dumbledore had a sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her mind repeated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a squib for a sister</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did not deserve the cruelty this world showed her, any more than you do, Juliette. Even today, years after she passed away, I still find myself wondering if there had been something I could have done differently for her, to help her find her place in the Wizarding world. Her world, as much as anyone else’.” Dumbledore peered at Juliette. He seemed bone-weary, as though he were shouldering great burdens which, Juliette assumed, he probably was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not think of you any lesser than a witch or wizard, Juliette. Indeed, there is much you can do in our world, even without mastering magic. I also know that one man’s confidence in squibs hardly warrants the support of others. And so I come to you with this proposition: an opportunity to rejoin the Wizarding world. It will not be easy, I know, but I have full faith in your ability to adapt and excel within the Order, should you choose to join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several minutes passed by, and neither Dumbledore nor Juliette spoke. A headache - very different from the one she had experienced while trolling through London - gripped her. As surreptitiously as possible, Juliette raised a hand and massaged her temples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The action did not go unnoticed by her company, however. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see I have exhausted you with my tedious and, admittedly, taxing words,” observed Dumbledore kindly, “Is there anything you wish to ask me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette considered the man before her, then shook her head. There wasn’t a single coherent thought coursing her mind at the moment. Dumbledore had said too much, revealed so much. She didn’t know where to start, or what to focus upon. Distantly, her mind whispered she ought to retire to her bed, and Juliette eagerly agreed with the stray thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I shall take my leave,” announced Dumbledore, getting to his feet. Juliette hastily followed suit. “I’ve given you a lot to think about, I’m sure. I think it is best if you take some time and mull over this conversation, Juliette. In a week’s time, I wish you to write to me of your decision. Whatever you may choose, I shall accept it graciously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” muttered Juliette, dazedly following Dumbledore to her front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also must ask you to not divulge the details of this meeting to anyone, including your sister. It would not do if news about a secret organization became public knowledge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, sir. I won’t mention it to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your time, Juliette,” said Dumbledore as he opened the door and let himself out. “You are a very interesting person, I must say. And your taste in Muggle books seems rather impeccable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juliette smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I cannot take credit for that. Most of those books were suggested by my neighbor, Penny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in that case, you have found yourself a rather well-read friend. I’m sure you’ll enjoy all those lovely tales.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling in the darkened hallway. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like molten lead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>King Lear, I believe. You should read it some day, should you find yourself in need of some solace. Ironic though it might be, I find that reading tragedies on gloomy days has quite an uplifting effect on my mood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Dumbledore turned on the spot and vanished in the blink of an eye.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Juliette did not read King Lear, as Dumbledore had suggested, nor had she made an effort to plow through any of the other books lining her mantle. Instead, the following day, Juliette had spent much of her time recalling Dumbledore’s words and going over them in her head again and again. The more she thought about it, the more surreal the meeting seemed. By the second day since Dumbledore’s unexpected arrival, Juliette was half convinced she had dreamed the entire thing. Yet each time her gaze landed on the spice cake sitting in a box on her dining table, she was reminded of the fact that her meeting with Dumbledore had been no dream. And so it was, she paced around her apartment, trying to make sense of what had happened, and the chance she had been presented with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Juliette had made up her mind, the sun had risen and disappeared behind soupy, rain-laden clouds that had arrived with the third morning. Hands shaking and heart racing, she trudged into her tiny study and searched for a piece of parchment and quill. She knew Phorcys was out delivering a letter to Lynette and would not return for another day or so, but she also knew what her answer was going to be and saw no reason in dwelling upon it any longer than she had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dipping her quill into a bottle of purple ink, Juliette drew in a deep breath and wrote:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Dumbledore -</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have thought intently about what you said. I am deeply honored by your kind words and proposition. However, I must decline your offer. I cannot do what you have asked of me. I have left that world behind, and I mean to keep it that way.<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I am truly sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,<br/></span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>J. M. Harte</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's that. Comments will be appreciated! Let me know your thoughts and theories! I'd love talking to you all :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. VIII.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHT<br/>❛</strong> <em>the last day.</em> <strong> ❜<br/></strong></p><hr/><p>The final exams, daunting as they had seemed mere days prior, were over before any of them even registered the week flying by, and suddenly, the end of semester had arrived in all its bittersweet glory, bringing with it a renewed sense of excitement and apprehension for the seventh years who had, after seven long years, reached the end of their journey at Hogwarts. </p><p>The morning of their last day at Hogwarts had dawned gray and damp, the grounds still wet from the pouring of the night before, and a sickly chill clung to the air within the stone castle. Yet in spite of the intrepid weather casting a pall on the beginning of their summer, after the weeks of tension and tears they had all suffered leading up to the final exams, the students of Hogwarts found themselves in high spirits as they bustled around, taking care of last minute packing or else getting ready to leave for the Hogsmeade station. Even the seventh years - who would not return come the following term - milled about the corridors with beaming smiles, chatting animatedly and exchanging goodbyes. Looking around at the scene unfolding before him, for one, glorious moment, Sirius could almost forget the war that awaited them beyond the gates of Hogwarts.</p><p>“Don’t be so grim,” James groaned from Sirius’ right, who realized belatedly that he’d voiced his thoughts out loud. “It doesn’t suit us, Padfoot.”</p><p>“Neither does using barmy nicknames,” said a voice from behind them, and Sirius glanced over his shoulder to see Marlene McKinnon grinning up at them. She fell into step with James and Sirius as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room after breakfast. Needing to pack their remaining belongings, the boys had finished breakfast quickly and departed for their dormitory, leaving all their friends in the Great Hall - it had been restored overnight to its normal state after the previous night’s farewell feast, where the Marauders had managed to set off a load of fireworks and colored smoke bombs to honor their reputation as mischief makers one last time. Much to everyone’s disbelief and amusement, Dumbledore had conjured up an ancient gramophone at the sight of the colorful display to provide music for the remainder of the feast. All in all, and despite the gloomy circumstances, Sirius felt it was the best farewell feast he’d ever attended. </p><p>As they climbed the grand staircase, Marlene shook her head fondly. “I never understood why you boys insist on using such stupid names for one another.”</p><p>Sirius shot James a grin as he said, “It’s only stupid if you’re not smart enough.”</p><p>This earned Sirius a sharp jab to his side from a scowling Marlene who otherwise ignored his comment. </p><p>“I came to ask whether either of you had any plans this coming Monday.”</p><p>“Dunno,” replied James, looking over at Sirius, who shrugged.</p><p>“You think I know what I’m doing three days from now? How long have you two known me, a day?”</p><p>“Fair point.” Marlene turned to James. “You?”</p><p>“Not that I know of, Lena. Why?”</p><p>“Because,” began Marlene, her voice dropping to a whisper so that only Sirius and James could hear, “mum and dad are going to be away this week, and I don’t want to be cooped up at home the entire time. So last night, I was working myself into a frenzy and thinking of what to do, and it got me wondering if it’d be alright with you if I dropped by your place. I’ll ask Mr. and Mrs. Potter if it’s alright, of course.”</p><p>Sirius knew what James was going to say before he’d said it. The McKinnons were one of the Potters’ closest friends; there was no way Marlene wouldn’t be welcomed into their home. Besides, she happened to be one of James’ oldest friends; there was no way he would let her stew at home if she didn’t want to. And sure enough, James - after sighing exasperatedly - told her that she was welcome to come over any day.</p><p>They were now making their way up a flight of stairs on the second floor. As the three jumped over a vanishing stair with practiced ease, Sirius couldn’t help but inquire as to why the McKinnons weren’t home. </p><p>Marlene stiffened slightly the moment the question left his mouth, and the two boys exchanged a perplexed look. </p><p>“Sorry,” mumbled Sirius, “I shouldn’t have-”</p><p>“Oh, it’s alright,” Marlene cut him off, sighing heavily as she added, “You’d have figured it out anyway. Still got some brains upstairs, don’t you? Well, they’re going away on a mission tonight.” </p><p><em> Of course </em>, thought Sirius. They rarely ever talked about their parents - at least in front of him - so it was little wonder he’d forgotten that both of Marlene’s parents were senior Aurors. </p><p>“I don’t know where or what for, but Flitwick asked me to come to his office yesterday, after breakfast, and there they were, poking their heads out of the flames. Told me they were going away, and that dear Micah,” Marlene rolled her eyes at the mention of her eldest brother, “would be there to take me and Miriam home.”</p><p>Sirius grinned, recalling the chiseled face and prissy voice of Marlene’s older brother. “Well, at least pretty boy’s there for you.”</p><p>“Petty boy, more like. I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck with no one but that git and my sister for a whole week.”</p><p>“You’re seventeen, you know,” pointed out James, “You could just leave to go see your friends.”</p><p>Marlene shot him an incredulous look. “You think I’m allowed to go anywhere by myself in times like these? I can’t leave once I’m home. There are wards around the house to make sure I stay there until my parents return. The only reason I can even entertain the idea of going to yours is because our floo is still connected to the your house for emergency purposes or something of the sort.”</p><p>“It’s not like you’ll be gallivanting around Bristol if you leave home,” said Sirius, “You’ll just apparate beyond the wards. Should be safe enough, so I can’t see why can’t you leave.”</p><p>“Search me, Black. Mum and Dad insisted we stay home until they’re back. I think the MacDonalds’ disappearance has got them on the edge, if you ask me.”</p><p>James hummed in response, and Sirius remained silent. He hadn’t given it much thought before, but now that he did, Sirius was willing to bet the McKinnons weren’t the only pureblood family taking such measures. Until two weeks ago, it seemed unlikely that the MacDonald’s would be hurt, what with their pureblood background and influence within the Ministry. Surely they were safer, more protected than most half-bloods and all muggle-born witches and wizards? And yet, the unthinkable had happened, had it not? </p><p>Sirius had known for a long while now that the war - and its many horrors - awaited them the day they left Hogwarts for good, but now that the hour was nearly upon them, he felt a chill wash over him at the thought of what lay beyond. He knew it was rather hypocritical of him to think so; he was a Gryffindor, after all, and didn’t that mean he was supposed to be brave in times like these? Yet for some reason, every time he thought about the future, his insides began twisting and churning, faster and faster until he felt as though he was about to be sick. Perhaps it was not the danger itself that disconcerted him most but rather the uncertainty of it all. </p><p>James’ low rumble drew Sirius’ attention back to his surroundings.</p><p>“Can’t they assign an Auror or two to make sure you’re safe?” James was asking Marlene, a frown lining his forehead. “They did that last summer, didn’t they? When they went to whatsit in Europe?”</p><p>“Albania,” said Marlene, and she shook her head. “I asked them the same, but they said they can’t spare any Aurors at the moment.”</p><p>Not for the first time was Sirius reminded of the fact that in a few weeks, while he would still be holed up at the Potters’, wondering what to do with his life, James and Marlene would begin their Auror training; they would be in the thick of all the action whilst he stayed behind closed doors or else sat shuffling papers at overcrowded desks. </p><p>“So I can come over Monday?”</p><p>Sirius looked over at Marlene, just in time to see James hastily averting his eyes from him. </p><p>“Sure you can,” shrugged James, “just as long as you bring some biscuits or pudding.”</p><p>Marlene gave him a look, then “Pigs,” she muttered under her breath even as she swung her arms around Sirius and James.</p><p>“Ah, yes, pork. James and I love pork chops,” quipped Sirius, “Feel free to bring those as well.”</p><p>“I hate you both.”</p><p>Sirius grinned. “Nah, you don’t.”</p><p>“You’re such an-” Marlene began to say, but she was interrupted by a deep voice booming across the hall. </p><p>“Miss McKinnon, what are you doing?” </p><p>The three students turned on their heels to see their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hornbeam, hurrying towards them. </p><p>“Oh, here we go,” muttered Sirius, shaking his head in amusement. </p><p>“You know, I think I’m going to miss Hornbeam,” said James lightly, “She always makes me laugh.”</p><p>Marlene rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself. I can’t wait to get away from her. Wonder what she’ll say this time…”</p><p>They didn’t have to wait long to find out. </p><p>“Girls and boys,” she panted as she walked briskly down the corridor, “are to remain at least six inches from one another.” The three Gryffindors stared at her, bewildered, though not very surprised. Professor Hornbeam’s loud, booming voice echoed down the corridor, “Six inches! Six. What do you think you’re doing young lady?”</p><p>Sirius bit his lip to stop himself from laughing loudly as Marlene stared at the aging woman. After a moment’s hesitation, she muttered, “I’m convinced she’s old Binns’ wife. The way she talks, you’d think it’s the 1800, not 1978.”</p><p>“She is a bit insufferable,” Sirius nodded, adding in an equally low voice, “a bit of a kindred spirit for you then, isn’t she, McKinnon?”</p><p>Later, after enduring a lengthy speech from Professor Hornbeam about propriety and decorum and other codswallop, Sirius wasn’t entirely surprised to see Marlene resolutely ignore him for the rest of the day.</p><hr/><p>The normally bustling and loud Auror Office was unusually quiet when Alastor Moody had come into work earlier that day. He did not need to ask the reason behind the grimness that shrouded them; Annie and Tobias MacDonald’s disappearance had proved to be difficult for everyone. It had now been two weeks since they had gone missing, and the Aurors were nowhere near locating the junior Aurors. This lack of progress was yet another reminder of how poorly their Ministry was coping with the ongoing war; a few years ago, they would have found a lead or two, witnesses whose accounts would help paint a clearer picture, yet all they’d found so far was Annie MacDonald’s lost handbag, and a Muggle witness who insisted she’d seen a masked figure blow up the street. It was nothing they didn’t already know.</p><p>A bunch of Death Eaters had attacked the Muggle town of Ripon in broad daylight, right around the time a team of unsuspecting Aurors was patrolling the streets. Out of the four Aurors present, two had been injured and two taken. It was hardly surprising that Annie and Tobias MacDonald were the ones to have been taken. Their father was the Head Auror, a leader in the fight against You-Know-Who; his children had been walking targets since the day he’d assumed the position three years ago. </p><p>“How’s Angus doing?”</p><p>At the sound of a sharp, thin voice, Moody looked up from his half-forgotten lunch to see a grizzly face looming over the top of his cubicle. </p><p>“Scrimgeour,” said Moody by way of greeting before turning his attention back to his sandwich. He tore off a large chunk of bread, ham, cheese, and lettuce, and was munching it aggressively when Scrimgeour spoke again.</p><p>“I asked you something.”</p><p>“You did,” replied Moody, swallowing loudly. “But given that even the most thickheaded of people would know the answer to that question, I’m assuming you don’t need me to tell you. You’re quite smart, I’m told.”</p><p>Scrimgeour glared at Moody. “Do you ever give a straight answer?”</p><p>“When someone asks me a straight question, I do.” Moody leaned back into his chair. He fixed Scrimgeour with a look. “What do you want? You’re not here to discuss the old man.”</p><p>Scrimgeour looked as if it was taking every ounce of his being to not lash out. Moody would have enjoyed watching the man struggle so had he not been so intrigued. Scrimgeour had never had any reason to hold back his words with Moody; it was no secret the two didn’t like one another. </p><p><em> An annoyed lion </em>, Moody realized with a start as he watched Scrimgeour. With the long, grizzly hair framing his face and yellowish eyes glaring dangerously at him, he really did resemble a lion in Moody’s opinion.</p><p>“Sit down,” growled Moody finally, waving towards the empty chair on the other side of his desk. He waited until Scrimgeour had settled into the chair before asking, “Well?”</p><p>“Annie and Tobias MacDonald.”</p><p>“Ah.” </p><p>Moody regarded the man in front of him. He had assumed Scrimgeour was here to talk about their impending mission to Bulgaria, the one they were set to depart for later tonight. Over the past handful of days, the handful of times the two men had spoken to one another, the only topic of conversation had been the mission. It was just as well, thought Moody, because he highly doubted he’d wish to speak to Scrimgeour otherwise. </p><p>Coming back to his surroundings, he noticed the other man was still glaring at him. Moody, after clearing his throat loudly, added, “Tragic, no doubt. But what about it?”</p><p>“You don’t think it’s odd that two junior aurors were kidnapped in broad daylight? From a Muggle town, no less.”</p><p>“I’m sure MacDonald isn’t taking the disappearance of his kids lightly, Rufus.”</p><p>Scrimgeour rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t implying that.”</p><p>“Sounded like it.”</p><p>The comment earned him an annoyed huff from the other man. Moody watched, his curiosity growing by the minute, as Scrimgeour’s eyes darted around the cubicle, peering over the edge to take note of who - if anyone - was around. Apparently satisfied by his surroundings, Scrimgeour finally leaned back into his chair and met Moody’s inquisitive gaze.</p><p>“Look,” he began, “those kids, and a few others, were there on my orders.”</p><p>Moody, in spite of himself, sat up straighter. The last he had heard, they had been stationed in Ripon on the Head Auror’s orders, and that too for a rather trivial case involving cursed cauldrons. </p><p>“Why were they there on your orders?” asked Moody in a quiet voice, careful to avoid being within earshot of whichever git was moving noisily in the cubicle behind him.</p><p>“To investigate the death of the Linneys,” answered Scrimgeour without missing a beat. </p><p>“The Unspeakable’s family?”</p><p>“That’s the one.”</p><p>A picture of a happy family of five swarmed before his eyes, as did the headline above it: MINISTRY WORKER AND FAMILY FOUND DEAD IN YORKSHIRE.</p><p>“I thought it was the killing curse that did it for them.”</p><p>Scrimgeour nodded. “That’s what I first thought too, but I’d been reading the debriefs regarding it, and their post mortem suggests otherwise.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“The killing curse leaves no trace, correct?” Scrimgeour waited for Moody to nod his assent before continuing, “Well, the post mortem reports show the Linneys were all in great health at the time of death. They weren’t ill. Weren’t tortured, or hexed, or killed by any other more violent means. The house bore no signs of a struggle, forced entry, spell damage… nothing. Nil. Nada.”</p><p>Moody frowned. He knew all this; he had been one of the first Aurors on sight for the Linney case. He’d seen the destruction - or lack, thereof - around the house; the unmarked bodies of the family. It looked exactly like any other crime scene where the killing curse had been used. </p><p>“You’ll get to your point sometime this year, I’m sure,” Moody growled, running a hand through his knotted hair. </p><p>“Belladonna,” snapped Scrimgeour.</p><p>Whatever Moody had been expecting the older man to say, this was not it. “What?”</p><p>“There were traces of belladonna in the Linneys’ blood. Not enough to be lethal, but present nonetheless.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Belladonna isn’t exactly your average mint or parsley plant, is it?”</p><p>Moody was silent for a long while. Then, still frowning, he said, “Belladonna isn’t common, yes, but it’s not uncommon either. Grows in a lot of thickets around, don’t it? Maybe they came into contact with it through tainted food or mere touch, I can’t say for sure. I’m not a healer.”</p><p>“I know that,” gritted Scrimgeour, “But I also think it’s highly unlikely. You know why? I’ll tell you: Wallace Linney’s wife was a Healer. I knew them well, you see. Brilliant thing she was, Mrs. Linney. Had a thorough understanding of magical maladies and cures, especially ones pertaining to herbs and plants. You don’t think she’d notice if she came across belladonna? Or that she wouldn’t recognize the signs in her family? Come off it.”</p><p>Moody thought there were several explanations for the questions in Scrimgeour’s head, but given what he’d just learned, Moody too had the growing suspicion that coming into contact with belladonna should not have been as easy as it seemed. He wanted to ask what exactly Scrimgeour was thinking. Did he suspect foul play? Was it even plausible that a Death Eater would take the time to slowly poison a family instead of killing them instantly with Avada Kedavra? And most importantly, why were they talking about all this when two Aurors had gone missing from their midst, and they had another possibly dangerous mission coming up soon?</p><p>“You didn’t say what the MacDonald kids were doing in Ripon anyway,” said Moody instead, his mind still trying to wrap his head around all the new information Scrimgeour had so impolitely dumped on him. “I thought they were patrolling the city because of the tip-off we had regarding that Burke bloke. Something about illegal cauldron dealings, from what I remember.”</p><p>“That is why they were there,” nodded Scrimgeour, then added, “partly, at least.”</p><p>Moody raised a brow.</p><p>“I found a bus ticket to Ripon in Wallace Linney’s pocket,” Scrimgeour explained, “and there were several others of him going into and out of Ripon every Monday and Wednesday. I’m assuming he couldn’t apparate there because then we could have learned of magical disturbance in the area. Whatever it was he was doing in Ripon, it had to be kept secret from the Ministry.”</p><p>Moody raised a hand and rubbed his temples. “What are you on about, mate?”</p><p>“Look, I think there’s something not right about the Unspeakable’s case. Ripon was a lead I’ve been very keen on investigating, but secretly, as much as possible. Only a handful within the MLE - Head Auror, Head of MLE and such - even knew I’d sent Aurors to Ripon. All they were supposed to do was patrol the streets, monitor the city for any dodgy activities. And now they’re missing.”</p><p>Moody swore under his breath, his hands gripping his hair without him being conscious of it. “Any moment now, Rufus.”</p><p>“The Aurors sent to Ripon weren’t supposed to be in any danger. That town is tiny, and it’s considered low risk. There’s a slim chance of sighting Death Eaters there. So slim, in fact, that it’s not even on our watchlist.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So, Alastor, how did a bunch of Death Eater bastards know Aurors were going to be there?”</p><p>“Followed them, maybe?”</p><p>“The kids went straight into a back alley in Ripon. I had a special portkey set up for them.”</p><p>“Then Ripon’s not as low risk as we thought.”</p><p>“Perhaps.”</p><p>“That would explain the disappearance, wouldn’t it?” asked Moody, frowning himself now. “Death Eaters were probably on the lookout.”</p><p>“In a city we know isn’t frequented by Death Eaters? And on the lookout for what? For a bunch of young, undercover Aurors whom none of them have seen before? Besides, the MacDonalds live in Muggle London, they blend into their world better than some of those hippie Muggles do. It’s not easy to spot a MacDonald witch or wizard in a Muggle crowd, I’ll tell you that.”</p><p>Moody shifted in his seat. He could feel his head throbbing now; he really just wanted to go home. “Christ, Rufus, stop beating about the bush. Your point is?”</p><p>Scrimgeour looked at Moody cooly, then he leaned back into his chair. “I’ve heard you’re quite smart too, Alastor. Surely you know exactly what I’m getting at, don’t you?”</p><p>But before Moody could say another word - or swear loudly, as he had been about to - the door to the Head Auror’s office flung open and a tall, pouchy figure appeared in the doorway.</p><p>“Moody!” came the plummy and carrying voice of Joseph McKinnon, the Deputy Head Auror, from where he stood on the opposite end of the Auror Office, “Have you decided on the Aurors that’ll be shadowing you?”</p><p>It took Moody a moment to shake himself out from his stupor. “Uh, yeah, yeah. I have,” he called back, still watching Scrimgeour with a frown.</p><p>“Good!” yelled Joseph, “Come here and get their papers ready now, yeah? But before you do that, Mr. MacDonald wants a word!”</p><p>“A minute!” replied Moody, still not averting his gaze from Scrimgeour as he scrambled to his feet. Quietly, he asked, “What were you saying, Rufus?”</p><p>But Scrimgeour, after brief hesitation, simply shook his head.</p><p>Cursing the other man under his breath - and not making much effort to hide his choicy words from the man in question - Moody cleared the remnants of his lunch from the desk and straightened a few files. He grabbed his coat, his wand, and two blue folders before murmuring a ‘later, mate,’ to Scrimgeour and making his way around the cubicle.</p><p>Moody stumbled. </p><p>A quick glance to the floor told him that Scrimgeour had stuck his foot out. </p><p>“Think about what I just said,” Scrimgeour hissed before Moody could start berating the other man.</p><p>“Thanks but no thanks,” snapped Moody, “As thrilling as your new line of thought is, I think it’s best we not forget what we’re supposed to be focusing on at the moment, simply because you’re feeling guilty about what happened.”</p><p>“Guilty?” Scrimgeour looked livid. For one wild moment, Moody thought he saw the other man’s hand twitch, as though he was about to reach for his wand. But the next moment, however, a placid expression took hold of Scrimgeour as he got to his feet and said in a normal voice, “Be here in the morning by 6, alright? I want to leave before daybreak.” </p><p>Scrimgeour had turned on his heel and moved a few paces before he halted. Then he turned back and marched up to Moody again, and in a much lower voice, he added, “Don’t be a fool. Think about what I said, Alastor. I know we don’t see eye to eye on anything, but I’ve a feeling we’ll agree on this. Or at least, you’ll be sensible enough when it matters.”</p><p>“Agree on what? And when what matters?” Moody whispered back angrily just as McKinnon shouted again, “Alastor Moody, today, please!”</p><p>“Go on,” said Scrimgeour airily, “Best not keep McKinnon waiting. He’s at his wits end already, I tell you.”</p><p>“Rufus-”</p><p>“Later, mate,” Scrimgeour cut in with a wry smile, echoing Moody’s words from earlier.</p><p>Without so much as another glance at him, Scrimgeour had turned his back on Moody and strode across the Auror Office, disappearing behind a pair of wooden doors labeled ‘Operations’ and leaving Moody to stare behind him in utter disbelief.</p><hr/><p>After much chaos - and crying - the Hogwarts Express had finally left the Hogsmeade station an hour ago. Most of the seventh years had leaned out of their compartment windows to watch the turreted castle grow smaller and fainter until it all but disappeared from view. </p><p>As they moved from the Highlands and into the rolling fields of England, breezing past a blur of lush countryside and gray, rain heavy sky, the ungodly summer rain continued pounding against the window of the compartment where the Marauders sat along with Lily, Marlene, and their friend from Ravenclaw, Aspen Kane. The seven of them just barely managed to fit into the cramped compartment, and the thought made Sirius smile as he reminisced about the first time he’d sat in one of these compartments, the way seven children had then comfortably lounged around playing exploding snap and exchanging chocolate frog cards.</p><p>“Well, well, well,” a strange, silvery voice said, rousing Sirius from his reverie. He whipped his head around to find that the compartment door had slid open, and a bunch of older Slytherin boys stood just beyond the threshold. “If it isn’t the so-called Marauders and their girlfriends playing exploding snap. Reminiscing about your childhood?” </p><p>They were, indeed, halfway through a round of exploding snap. James had remarked how he and Sirius had played the game on their way to Hogwarts back in their first year, only to learn that the rest of them too had passed time playing the volatile card game. Blaming nostalgia, Marlene had pulled out a deck of cards and soon, the seven of them were engrossed a ridiculously competitive game of exploding snap. No one revealed this bit of information to the short Slytherin boy who had spoken: Lazarus Mulciber.</p><p>“Is there something you wanted?” asked Remus, his tone devoid of any emotion. “I fail to understand the reason behind this disruption.”</p><p>For an instance, Sirius thought he saw a flash of anger in Mulciber’s eyes, but then he blinked, and Mulciber looked as unperturbed as ever. Sirius noticed, a little more gleefully than was strictly appropriate, that Mulciber’s dark hair had thinned over the years, making his angular face appear even broader and unsuited to his stature. </p><p>“We were walking back to our compartment when Amycus here,” Mulciber pointed to a tall boy on his right whose skin looked thoroughly weather-beaten, “said something that made me stop and want to say hello.”</p><p>Sirius raised his brow. “I’m sure we’re all flattered by your presence, Mulligan.”</p><p>“Mulciber,” corrected the boy named Aziel Avery before Mulciber could stop him.</p><p>“Yes, that’s what I said: Mulrooney,” replied Sirius, grinning at the sound of mingled laughter that came from behind him. “But remind me again, what was it this dolt said that made you stop? </p><p>“Or better still, when will you leave?” asked Aspen from where she sat opposite Sirius.</p><p>“Yeah, unlike some people, we’ve got better things to do than pester other students,” added Peter defiantly. </p><p>“Do you?” said Mulciber, his gaze lingering upon Lily and Aspen momentarily. “Well, I won’t keep you from whatever it is you’re doing. I just stopped to say goodbye. I’ll miss your little antics, you know. I doubt we’ll be seeing any more of each other from now on.”</p><p>Marlene laughed mirthlessly. “No, if anything, I think you lot will be seeing a lot more of us.” </p><p>Considering she was about to become an Auror, Sirius knew that she at least was likely to see these Slytherins - Death Eaters soon, if his hunch was correct - a lot more than the rest of them.</p><p>“Nah, I don't think we will,” croaked Amycus. When the people inside the compartment offered nothing but blank stares in return, the group of Slytherin boys made to retreat. Then -</p><p>“Damn it, Yaxley,” said Mulciber in a clipped tone, looking at a gaunt, blonde haired boy, “tell me you didn’t touch the door handle?”</p><p>The boy, who looked as though one good gust of wind would finish him off, nodded hesitantly. Mulciber shook his head, barely concealing his smirk as he added in a carrying voice, “Stupid boy. Do make sure to wash your hands on our way back, will you? I don’t know what all has touched this door, but this compartment’s obviously filthy, tainted by blood traitors and mudbloods and whatnot.”</p><p>There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the steady beat of rain against glass and the rattling of the train as it hurled forwards. Then, in a flurry of motion, Sirius, James, Peter, Remus, Marlene, and Aspen had all leapt to their feet, reaching for their wands as they did so. Before any of them had so much as managed to utter half an incantation, however, Lily’s voice rang loud and clear as she called out from the far end of the compartment, “That’s oddly sweet of you, Mulciber, worrying about the poor kid’s hygiene. I didn’t think your post-Hogwarts ambitions included mothering other Slytherins - you didn’t seem like the sort to want domestic bliss - but what do I know.”</p><p>There was another short silence, then Sirius and everyone around him burst out laughing, though none of them lowered their wands. The Slytherins all glowered at them.</p><p>“That’s right,” hissed Mulciber, his voice dropping an octave, “what do you know, Mudblood - Potter, don’t even bother hexing me, you’ll regret it, and you know it.” Mulciber had said it all in one breath. He paused, taking in a deep breath. No one moved. “I don’t think it’s hit any of you yet, but you’re nothing special, and you’re done with Hogwarts now. Dumbledore can no longer protect the likes of you, as you’ll see in time.”</p><p>Whether ‘you’ referred to Muggleborns like Lily and Aspen, or blood traitors like James and Sirius himself, they did not know, and nor did they ask. </p><p>“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” snarled Sirius, a memory of his brother saying something eerily similar to him just two weeks ago swarmed to the front of his mind. He pushed the thought aside angrily. “How’s your daddy doing, huh, Mulgrave? What’s he up to? Killed any Unspeakables lately?”</p><p>Somewhere behind him, Remus muttered a warning ‘Sirius!’ which was drowned out by the sound of Mulciber’s cold laugh. “You’re full of questions, aren’t you, Black? Well, now that you’re finally stepping into the real world, I expect you’ll get all your answers, and soon.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” asked Peter, frowning slightly. </p><p>“What he means, porky, is that if I were you lot,” began another boy whom Sirius knew as Amycus Carrow, “I'd’ve been very careful ‘bout what I say and to who. You don’ want to go ‘round pissin’ off the wrong people.”</p><p>James snorted. “At least you admit you’re wrong.”</p><p>“Catch your silver linings while you can, Potter,” came a hollow voice; a sallow faced boy, whom Sirius had not spotted until now, had spoken. His dark eyes scanned the compartment as he stepped forward, his greasy hair shifting as he moved to the front of the group. “You won’t be getting much of those come tomorrow.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>It was Lily who had spoken this time, her tone sharp. Sirius hadn’t noticed her getting to her feet and moving, but she now stood inches from him, her eyes trained on Snape’s, who did not meet her gaze but stood scowling down his hooked nose at James. The air was thick with tension as they stood facing the group of Slytherins, wands drawn and brows furrowed, Snape’s words hanging between them uncomfortably. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius could see other students standing a few feet from their compartment. The Slytherin boys seemed to have noticed this around the same time he did, for they lazily straightened themselves and stepped away. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” repeated Lily, but she might have been a flobberworm for all the attention they paid her. </p><p>“Enjoy your pathetic game,” said Mulciber with a smile that displayed most of his pearly white, terribly straight teeth. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on Lily, just long enough for Sirius - who was closest to the entrance - to lose his patience at long last. He stepped forward and slammed the compartment door shut. </p><hr/><p>Juliette could hardly remember the last time she’d felt as carefree and happy as she did that day while strolling through Camden Market, her arms laden with shopping bags full of muggle trinkets, including a large set of colored pens, a variety of string lights, a handy cassette player, and tapes by musicians whose music she had never heard but whose names she had come across many times during her short existence in the Muggle world. Beside her, Penelope Bones, her dark hair swaying behind her as she walked, was also carrying a variety of shopping bags, though hers were noticeably fewer and smaller than Juliette’s.</p><p>“I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” Juliette admitted to Penelope as they rounded a corner and walked past hordes of busy Londoners. </p><p>“And you wanted to stay home and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” replied Penelope, a grin spreading across her face. </p><p>“Sound of Music,” corrected Juliette, shrugging as she added, “Besides, I only suggested it so you would have a chance to prove that you were, in fact, correct in thinking London would be more fun.”</p><p>Penelope gave a short laugh. “Why thank you for indulging my ego then.”</p><p>“An honor,” grinned Juliette, ducking to shield her face from the fresh wave of rain which had begun quite suddenly. “But really, Penny, this was a lot of fun.”</p><p>Penny smiled brightly at her. “I sure am glad you think so. I’ve been meaning to get you out of that box you call home for ages now.”</p><p>Juliette rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as though I never leave my flat.”</p><p>“Leaving it for work or getting groceries does not count,” Penelope pointed out, raising an elegant brow. They both knew she was right, obviously. Juliette quickly averted her eyes from the older woman’s gaze, who now looked formidably curious. It was a look Juliette had noticed many times, and the questions that followed the expression were seldom ones Juliette had answers to. “How come you’ve never been exploring the city before?”</p><p>“I never had anyone to go with,” said Juliette after a moment's hesitation, and it wasn’t entirely a lie either. “I didn’t want to roam around a strange city by myself.”</p><p>Penelope sighed softly, and Juliette could almost feel her pitying gaze on her. She didn’t think she could deal with another person’s pity; she had had enough of that in her old life. It turned out, however, that Penelope wasn’t one to go around telling people how sorry she felt for them. “Well, now I know how I’m going to spend my Saturdays.”</p><p>“How?” asked Juliette even though she had a pretty good idea.</p><p>“Showing you around London, obviously,” replied Penelope airily, “and maybe we can venture out into other cities too. I love Oxford in all it’s quaint beauty. And Bath is lovely too, I’m sure you’d like it. Oh, we can also go punting in Cambridge next week! Semester will be over by then, and it’ll be a lot less crowded. Sounds good?”</p><p>Juliette nodded. “I’ll follow you wherever. You know a lot more about England than I do, anyway.” </p><p>“I grew up here, so of course I do,” shrugged Penelope, “Maybe you can show me around Wales one day.”</p><p>Juliette smiled, hoping Penelope assumed it meant Juliette was on board with the idea when, in reality, Juliette knew that was not very likely. Wales wasn’t a particularly large country, and evading its thriving population of witches and wizards in an otherwise sparsely populated land was nearly impossible. True, her parents hadn’t asked her to stay away, but the real reason why Juliette had moved to London was so she could leave her old life behind. It was in the hope that she could detangle herself from the gossamer threads that tied her to the Wizarding World; that perhaps here, in the overcrowded and bustling city of London, she would belong.</p><p>The sound of thunder cracking the sky above drew Juliette’s attention back to her surroundings. Penelope had led them down two more blocks while Juliette’s mind had been otherwise diverted, and was still weaving her way through the crowd of weekend shoppers, careful to walk under the colorful and scalloped awnings that hung before many of the storefronts. </p><p>“Where are we headed now?” asked Juliette. Her legs ached from having been on her feet since 9 that morning. </p><p>“Train station,” replied Penelope, pointing to a large sandy-colored building in the distance, its giant arched windows visible even from where they stood. “King’s Cross is right up there, see? We’ll go back the same way we came in: take a train back to a station nearest our building, then walk the rest of the way. It’ll only take ten minutes to walk home from there, mind you.”</p><p>Penelope continued to explain their route - the train numbers that went in the direction of their home, the passes that were the best bargain for them - but Juliette had stopped listening. A sudden cold washed over her that had nothing to do with the untimely summer rain that had plagued the entire week. </p><p>
  <em> King’s Cross. </em>
</p><p>Juliette wracked her brains to recall what day it was. <em> Friday </em> , she remembered, <em> Friday, the 30th of June </em>. It was the last Friday of the month, the day the students returned from Hogwarts. A quick glance at her wristwatch told her it was nearing 5pm. By this time, witches and wizards from across the country would be filtering into the station to slip surreptitiously through the magical barrier between platforms 9 ¾ and welcome their kids home. </p><p>Here to take Lynette home, her own parents would be amongst them, and Juliette knew the last thing anyone wanted was for her to show up to the station unannounced. Though the urge to see Lynette, Ellis, and her parents was strong, she was surprised to find that the urge to escape the Wizarding World was somehow even stronger; the whispers and looks she was bound to receive was something she could happily live without for the rest of her life. </p><p>“Isn’t there any other way to get home?” asked Juliette quickly, her heart racing. Penelope gave her a surprised look, and Juliette hurriedly continued, “I just don’t like travelling by train very much. It makes me sick, all that swaying and lurching.”</p><p>The lie rolled off her tongue far too easily. She felt a little guilty for lying to Penelope this way, but what choice did she have? She could not tell the other woman the reason why avoiding King’s Cross - and her family - was so important. </p><p>“You don’t like trains?” Repeated Penelope, a frown lining her graceful face. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? When we took the train to get here?”</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t want to make a fuss,” replied Juliette, hoping Penelope would mistake her flushed face for embarrassment and not the guilt that was causing it, “But I’m really tired now and, well, I don’t think I could manage traveling through a train just now.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Penelope blankly. “Well…”</p><p>“You should go,” Juliette interrupted before the other woman could say another word, “I’ll find a bus or a taxi and get home. Don’t worry.”</p><p>Penelope did not return Juliette’s smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t leave you in the city like this, not when you’ve just admitted you don’t like wandering around by yourself. No!” Penny held up a hand as Juliette started to protest. “We’ll take a taxi home, alright? It’ll be more comfortable anyway.”</p><p>“Penny-”</p><p>“Taxi, alright?” repeated Penelope firmly but not unkindly, “I wish you’d told me sooner, Juliettte. We wouldn’t have taken the train this morning either.”</p><p>Juliette mumbled something about not wanting to cause much inconvenience, but Penelope was only half listening. In two bold strides, she had crossed the sidewalk and stood at its edge, an arm outstretched. A few passerbys turned to watch her. Amongst the many things she’d learnt that day, Juliette had also found that people were often drawn to Penelope. They turned towards her, listened to her, followed her. With her tall, slim stature, and elegant manners, it wasn’t difficult to see why she was the object of such fervent attention. </p><p>Within a minute of Penelope holding her arm out, a black car had pulled up to the curbside, and Juliette found herself being ushered into the backseat by a beaming Penelope. </p><p>“In you go,” she said as Juliette climbed into the car and moved to make space for Penelope, who turned to the driver and said, “13 Maplebrook Street. Do avoid M25 if you can, hmm?”</p><p>The car swerved as it pulled back into the road, leading them away from the crowded city. Yet even as it picked up speed, crossing the junction and speeding down the road beside King’s Cross station, Juliette felt the familiar feeling of nausea churning her insides. Her hands began shaking where they lay in her lap, her heart beating against her chest almost painfully. Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, Juliette leaned her head back and let her eyes fall shut, willing herself to stop seeing the bright, crimson spots now dancing behind her eyelids.</p><hr/><p>Alice Fawcett stood outside the Deputy Head Auror’s office, her hands wringing wildly as she debated which of her unfairly limited options would be least likely to end in disaster. Entering the Deputy Head’s office right now seemed akin to stepping willingly before You-Know-Who’s wand. She could return to her cubicle and wait for the storm to ebb, but then she would miss her deadline for submitting the Bulgarian Ministry’s <em> International Portkey Activation </em> forms. She could just slip the forms under the door and hope it’d catch someone’s eye, but she highly doubted she was lucky enough to pull that off. Perhaps she could leave it at Scrimgeour’s desk. But what if he never returned to his cubicle, or left without seeing the forms? She did not want to jeopardize yet another mission; the Conway girl and Prewett brothers still joked about the time she had nearly compromised a mission by forgetting to send a memo to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, resulting in a noticeable lack of Hit Wizards to back up the Aurors on the field. </p><p>A loud bang sounded from inside the office, followed by more illegible shouts and roars. Whatever it was that the Head Auror, Deputy Head, and select senior Aurors were discussing inside, Alice did not want to know. It was well past eleven in the night now, and all she wanted was to submit the bloody forms, go home, get some sleep, take a nice, hot shower, and leave for Bulgaria the following morning. Evidently, this was asking too much. </p><p>“What’s asking too much?” </p><p>Alice snapped out of her daze and blinked, looking around for the source of the voice; she hadn’t even noticed she was mumbling to herself out loud. Her eyes found the tall, burly form of Moody’s assistant, a pretty boy with dark hair that fell into his eyes. She didn’t know him, but she had seen him around the office several times, trailing behind Moody as the two zipped from one case to another (she hardly ever left her desk; Scrimgeour wasn’t too fond of taking assistants with him out onto the field). She did know, however, that Moody’s assistant sat on the opposite end of the floor, but thus far, she had had no reason to speak to him. </p><p>“What were you talking about?” He asked again in a soft voice she nearly didn’t hear over the ruckus ensuing just beyond the wooden doors they stood before. Hands deep in his pockets, his brown eyes were trained on hers as he waited for her answer.</p><p>“Taking a shower,” she blurted, saying the first thought that sprang to her mind and feeling her face flush the very next moment as the man did his best to stifle a grin. “I mean - home. I was thinking of going home, but I can’t until I hand these in,” she clarified, holding up the stack of papers clutched in her right hand. Seeing his raised brow, she added, “<em> International Portkey Activation forms, </em> for setting up the Portkeys to Bulgaria.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” the man nodded, “I heard there were some changes to how we were getting there. What happened to the Apparition plan?”</p><p>“Outruled,” said Alice with a sigh, “Scrimgeour insisted we use some other form of travel, one less monitored by the Bulgarian Ministry.”</p><p>“And they don’t track Portkeys well?”</p><p>Alice shook her head.</p><p>“How come?”</p><p>“My guess is as good as yours,” she admitted. </p><p>“Weird,” he mumbled under his breath, and Alice nodded. Having exhausted their quota of polite conversation, the two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as words failed them, and still the shouting match raged on. Alice ran a hand through her short, dark tresses, her fingers catching in a day’s worth of tangles. She felt the assistant’s eyes on her, but whenever she risked a glance at him, she found his gaze trained on the floor instead. </p><p>A particularly loud thump against the door made them jump. </p><p>“What d’you reckon’s going on in there?” asked Moody’s assistant, looking a little anxious.</p><p>Alice pondered for a minute then said slowly, “I can’t say with any precision.”</p><p>“Take an imprecise guess, then.”</p><p>Alice gave a short laugh. “A disagreement?” she suggested as Angus MacDonald, the Head Auror, roared ‘Not this again, ye daft man!’</p><p>The assistant lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t say.” </p><p>Alice merely shrugged, eyes darting from the assistant to the closed doors to her wristwatch, then repeating the action again. After several moments, during which Alice’s ears picked up a slew of colorful curses in Moody’s faint voice as it carried through the door - the imperturbable charm placed on the Head Auror’s door had been wearing off steadily for a while now - the assistant broke the silence between them.</p><p>“You’re going on the mission to Bulgaria too, aren’t you?” he asked. When Alice nodded, he added, “Well, guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning then, Fawcett. Goodnight.”</p><p>“‘Night.”</p><p>He had walked more than a fair few paces when Alice finally registered that he called her ‘Fawcett’; he knew her name. Bewildered, she ran after him. </p><p>“Wait!” she called, skidding to a halt behind him. “How do you… I’m sorry, I don’t… what’s your name again?”</p><p>The assistant looked at her with wide eyes. “You don’t know my name?” </p><p>Alice frowned. “Should I?”</p><p>“No, I suppose not,” the man laughed, shuffling his feet as he explained, “I just meant it’s not a huge department, after all, and everyone knows each other, at least through other people. We all hang around here all the time, so I assumed…”</p><p>Alice turned even redder, if possible. “Oh, I haven’t been here long. It’s only been a couple months since I finished training, and I haven’t really had a chance to speak to many people either, so I - I don’t know anyone,” she finished lamely. Admitting she had no friends at work sounded worse than she had expected. </p><p>“Oh,” said the man blankly. Then, recovering quickly, he held out a scarred hand and gave her a bright smile. “Frank Longbottom.”</p><p>“Alice Fawcett,” she told him as she took his hand. It was very cold.</p><p>“I know,” said Frank, “Everyone knows Scrimgeour’s assistant. Rotten luck, by the way, being stuck with him of all people.”</p><p>Alice laughed. “It’s not too bad.”</p><p>“Just not very nice either, I expect.”</p><p>“I’m going to keep my job and not answer that question.”</p><p>“In not answering you do sort of answer, don’t you think?”</p><p>Alice didn’t reply. She offered the assistant - Frank - a shrug and what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace. Frank returned the gesture and opened his mouth to say something but what it was that he wanted to say, Alice would never know, for at that very moment, the doors to the Head Auror’s office flew open and a dozen wizards stormed out from it. She caught a glimpse of Scrimgeour’s thunderous face before he disappeared behind his cubicle. Alice exchanged a look with Frank, who looked as nonplussed as she felt. </p><p>“FAWCETT!” Scrimgeour’s voice suddenly echoed around the silent office. A couple of Aurors stopped in their tracks to glance around, evidently confused as to who ‘Fawcett’ was. </p><p>With a sinking feeling, Alice gripped her papers tighter to her chest and turned to smile wryly at Frank, who mouthed a ‘good luck’ to her. With an appreciative nod, Alice whipped around and made her way over to Scrimgeour’s desk, dreading whatever lay awaiting her.</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>phew. That was almost 9k words long and so much happened: the Marauders leave Hogwarts for good; something's up with the Aurors; we meet Alice, and Alice meets Frank; Juliette goes sightseeing which doesn't end so well. <br/>Do let me know what you thought of this chapter! </p><p>Now that we’re moving away from Hogwarts, it can only mean one thing: war. And as excited as I am to write about it, all I really want now is for Sirius and Juliette to meet!!! I guess I'll have to write the next few chapters quickly for that to happen *hides under her blanket* </p><p>Okay, but seriously, I was pretty pleased with how this turned out! It was a longer than usual chapter, but all these scenes lead to the events of the next chapter which is a big one. Also, I am fully aware that I’ve spent far too long on all this setup, but hey, I wanted to establish my OC + my take on canon characters and hint at the Wizarding World in 1978 (we’ll get to see more about that as the story moves on). I mentioned it in the notes and I’ll say it again, this is a Wizarding War story, so while Sirius and Juliette (#BlackHarte!) are the main ship, the book doesn’t revolve entirely around their relationship. </p><p>If you’ve made it this far in the book, I thank you with all my heart and request you consider hanging in there a bit more?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. IX.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>CHAPTER NINE</strong><br/>❛ <em>and so it begins.</em> ❜</p><hr/><p>After much chaos, the Hogwarts Express had finally left the Hogsmeade station an hour ago. Most of the seventh years had leaned out of their compartment windows to watch the turreted castle grow smaller and fainter until it all but disappeared from view.</p><p>As they moved from the Highlands and into the rolling fields of England, breezing past a blur of lush countryside and gray, rain heavy sky, the ungodly summer rain continued pounding against the window of the compartment where the Marauders sat along with Lily, Marlene, and their friend from Ravenclaw, Aspen Kane. The seven of them just barely managed to fit into the cramped compartment, and the thought made Sirius smile as he reminisced about the first time he'd sat in one of these compartments, the way seven children had then comfortably lounged around playing exploding snap and exchanging chocolate frog cards.</p><p>"Well, well, well," a strange, silvery voice said, rousing Sirius from his reverie. He whipped his head around to find that the compartment door had slid open, and a bunch of older Slytherin boys stood just beyond the threshold. "If it isn't the so-called Marauders and their girlfriends playing exploding snap. Reminiscing about your childhood?"</p><p>They were, indeed, halfway through a round of exploding snap. James had remarked how he and Sirius had played the game on their way to Hogwarts back in their first year, only to learn that the rest of them too had passed time playing the volatile card game. Blaming nostalgia, Marlene had pulled out a deck of cards and soon, the seven of them were engrossed in a ridiculously competitive game of exploding snap. No one revealed this bit of information to the short Slytherin boy who had spoken: Lazarus Mulciber.</p><p>"Is there something you wanted?" asked Remus, his tone devoid of any emotion. "I fail to understand the reason behind this disruption."</p><p>For an instance, Sirius thought he saw a flash of anger in Mulciber's eyes, but then he blinked, and Mulciber looked as unperturbed as ever. Sirius noticed, a little more gleefully than was strictly appropriate, that Mulciber's dark hair had thinned over the years, making his angular face appear even broader and unsuited to his stature.</p><p>"We were walking back to our compartment when Amycus here," Mulciber pointed to a tall boy on his right whose skin looked thoroughly weather-beaten, "said something that made me stop and want to say hello."</p><p>Sirius raised his brow. "I'm sure we're all flattered by your presence, Mulligan."</p><p>"Mulciber," corrected the boy named Aziel Avery before Mulciber could stop him.</p><p>"Yes, that's what I said: Mulrooney," replied Sirius, grinning at the sound of mingled laughter that came from behind him. "But remind me again, what was it this dolt said that made you stop?</p><p>"Or better still, when will you leave?" asked Aspen from where she sat opposite Sirius.</p><p>"Yeah, unlike some people, we've got better things to do than pester other students," added Peter defiantly.</p><p>"Do you?" said Mulciber, his gaze lingering upon Lily and Aspen momentarily. "Well, I won't keep you from whatever it is you're doing. I just stopped to say goodbye. I'll miss your little antics, you know. I doubt we'll be seeing any more of each other from now on."</p><p>Marlene laughed mirthlessly. "No, if anything, I think you lot will be seeing a lot more of us."</p><p>Considering she was about to become an Auror, Sirius knew that she at least was likely to see these Slytherins – Death Eaters soon, if his hunch was correct – a lot more than the rest of them.</p><p>"Nah, I don't think we will," croaked Amycus. When the people inside the compartment offered nothing but blank stares in return, the group of Slytherin boys made to retreat. Then –</p><p>"Damn it, Yaxley," said Mulciber in a clipped tone, looking at a gaunt, blonde-haired boy, "tell me you didn't touch the door handle?"</p><p>The boy, who looked as though one good gust of wind would finish him off, nodded hesitantly. Mulciber shook his head, barely concealing his smirk as he added in a carrying voice, "Stupid boy. Do make sure to wash your hands on your way back, will you? I don't know what all has touched this door, but this compartment's obviously filthy, tainted by blood traitors and Mudbloods and whatnot."</p><p>There was a moment's silence, broken only by the steady beat of rain against glass and the rattling of the train as it hurled forwards. Then, in a flurry of motion, Sirius, James, Peter, Remus, Marlene, and Aspen had all leapt to their feet, reaching for their wands as they did so. Before any of them had so much as managed to utter half an incantation, however, Lily's voice rang loud and clear as she called out from the far end of the compartment, "That's oddly sweet of you, Mulciber, worrying about the poor kid's hygiene. I didn't think your post-Hogwarts ambitions included mothering other Slytherins – you didn't seem like the sort to want domestic bliss – but what do I know."</p><p>There was another short silence, then Sirius and everyone around him burst out laughing, though none of them lowered their wands. The Slytherins all glowered at them.</p><p>"That's right," hissed Mulciber, his voice dropping an octave, "what do you know, Mudblood – Potter, don't even bother hexing me, you'll regret it, and you know it." Mulciber had said it all in one breath. He paused, taking in a deep breath. No one moved. "I don't think it's hit any of you yet, but you're nothing special, and you're done with Hogwarts now. Dumbledore can no longer protect the likes of you, as you'll see in time."</p><p>Whether 'you' referred to Muggleborns like Lily and Aspen, or blood traitors like James and Sirius himself, they did not know, and nor did they ask.</p><p>"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" snarled Sirius, a memory of his brother saying something eerily similar to him just two weeks ago swarmed to the front of his mind. He pushed the thought aside angrily. "How's your daddy doing, huh, Mulgrave? What's he up to? Killed any Unspeakables lately?"</p><p>Somewhere behind him, Remus muttered a warning 'Sirius!' which was drowned out by the sound of Mulciber's cold laugh. "You're full of questions, aren't you, Black? Well, now that you're finally stepping into the real world, I expect you'll get all your answers, and soon."</p><p>"What do you mean?" asked Peter, frowning slightly.</p><p>"What he means, porky, is that if I were you lot," began another boy whom Sirius knew as Amycus Carrow, "I'd've been very careful 'bout what I say and to who. You don' want to go 'round pissin' off the wrong people."</p><p>James snorted. "At least you admit you're wrong."</p><p>"Catch your silver linings while you can, Potter," came a hollow voice; a sallow-faced boy, whom Sirius had not spotted until now, had spoken. His dark eyes scanned the compartment as he stepped forward, his greasy hair shifting as he moved to the front of the group. "You won't be getting much of those come tomorrow."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>It was Lily who had spoken this time, her tone sharp. Sirius hadn't noticed her getting to her feet and moving, but she now stood inches from him, her eyes trained on Snape's, who did not meet her gaze but stood scowling down his hooked nose at James. The air was thick with tension as they stood facing the group of Slytherins, wands drawn and brows furrowed, Snape's words hanging between them uncomfortably.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes, Sirius could see other students standing a few feet from their compartment. The Slytherin boys seemed to have noticed this around the same time he did, for they lazily straightened themselves and stepped away.</p><p>"What are you talking about?" repeated Lily, but she might have been a flobberworm for all the attention they paid her.</p><p>"Enjoy your pathetic game," said Mulciber with a smile that displayed most of his pearly white, terribly straight teeth. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on Lily, just long enough for Sirius – who was closest to the entrance – to lose his patience at long last. He stepped forward and slammed the compartment door shut.</p><hr/><p>Juliette could hardly recall the last time she'd felt as carefree and happy as she did that day while strolling through Camden Market, her arms laden with shopping bags full of muggle trinkets, including a large set of colored pens, a variety of string lights, a handy cassette player, and tapes by musicians whose music she had never heard but whose names she had come across many times during her short existence in the Muggle world. Beside her, Penelope Bones, her dark hair swaying behind her as she walked, was also carrying a variety of shopping bags, though hers were noticeably fewer and smaller than Juliette's.</p><p>"I can't remember the last time I had this much fun," Juliette admitted to Penelope as they rounded a corner and walked past hordes of busy Londoners.</p><p>"And you wanted to stay home and watch Breakfast at Tiffany's," replied Penelope, a grin spreading across her face.</p><p>"Sound of Music," corrected Juliette, shrugging as she added, "Besides, I only suggested it so you would have a chance to prove that you were, in fact, correct in thinking London would be more fun."</p><p>Penelope gave a short laugh. "Why thank you for indulging my ego then."</p><p>"An honor," grinned Juliette, ducking to shield her face from the fresh wave of rain that had begun quite suddenly. "But really, Penny, this was a lot of fun."</p><p>Penny smiled brightly at her. "I sure am glad you think so. I've been meaning to get you out of that box you call home for ages now."</p><p>Juliette rolled her eyes. "You make it sound as though I never leave my flat."</p><p>"Leaving it for work or getting groceries does not count," Penelope pointed out, raising an elegant brow. They both knew she was right, obviously. Juliette quickly averted her eyes from the older woman's gaze, who now looked formidably curious. It was a look Juliette had noticed many times, and the questions that followed the expression were seldom ones Juliette had answers to. "How come you've never been exploring the city before?"</p><p>"I never had anyone to go with," said Juliette after a moment's hesitation, and it wasn't entirely a lie either. "I didn't want to roam around a strange city by myself."</p><p>Penelope sighed softly, and Juliette could almost feel her pitying gaze on her. She didn't think she could deal with another person's pity; she had had enough of that in her old life. It turned out, however, that Penelope wasn't one to go around telling people how sorry she felt for them. "Well, now I know how I'm going to spend my Saturdays."</p><p>"How?" asked Juliette even though she had a pretty good idea.</p><p>"Showing you around London, obviously," replied Penelope airily, "and maybe we can venture out into other cities too. I love Oxford in all its quaint beauty. And Bath is lovely too, I'm sure you'd like it. Oh, we can also go punting in Cambridge next week! Semester will be over by then, and it'll be a lot less crowded. Sounds good?"</p><p>Juliette nodded. "I'll follow you wherever. You know a lot more about England than I do, anyway."</p><p>"I grew up here, so of course I do," shrugged Penelope, "Maybe you can show me around Wales one day."</p><p>Juliette smiled, hoping Penelope assumed it meant Juliette was on board with the idea when, in reality, Juliette knew that was not very likely. Wales wasn't a particularly large country, and evading its thriving population of witches and wizards in an otherwise sparsely populated land was nearly impossible. True, her parents hadn't asked her to stay away, but the real reason why Juliette had moved to London was so she could leave her old life behind. It was in the hope that she could detangle herself from the gossamer threads that tied her to the Wizarding World; that perhaps here, in the overcrowded and bustling city of London, she would belong.</p><p>The sound of thunder cracking the sky above drew Juliette's attention back to her surroundings. Penelope had led them down two more blocks while Juliette's mind had been otherwise diverted, and was still weaving her way through the crowd of weekend shoppers, careful to walk under the colorful and scalloped awnings that hung before many of the storefronts.</p><p>"Where are we headed now?" asked Juliette. Her legs ached from having been on her feet since 9 that morning.</p><p>"Train station," replied Penelope, pointing to a large sandy-colored building in the distance, its giant arched windows visible even from where they stood. "King's Cross is right up there, see? We'll go back the same way we came in: take a train back to a station nearest our building, then walk the rest of the way. It'll only take ten minutes to walk home from there, mind you."</p><p>Penelope continued to explain their route – the train numbers that went in the direction of their home, the passes that were the best bargain for them – but Juliette had stopped listening. A sudden cold washed over her that had nothing to do with the untimely summer rain that had plagued the entire week.</p><p>
  <em>King's Cross.</em>
</p><p>Juliette wracked her brains to recall what day it was. <em>Friday</em>, she remembered. <em>Friday, the 30th of June</em>. It was the last Friday of the month, the day the students returned from Hogwarts. A quick glance at her wristwatch told her it was nearing 6 pm. By this time, witches and wizards from across the country would be filtering into the station to slip surreptitiously through the magical barrier between platforms 9 ¾ and welcome their kids home.</p><p>Here to take Lynette home, her own parents would be amongst them, and Juliette knew the last thing anyone wanted was for her to show up to the station unannounced. Though the urge to see Lynette, Ellis, and her parents was strong, she was surprised to find that the urge to escape the Wizarding World was somehow even stronger; the whispers and looks she was bound to receive was something she could happily live without for the rest of her life.</p><p>"Isn't there any other way to get home?" asked Juliette quickly, her heart racing. Penelope gave her a surprised look, and Juliette hurriedly continued, "I just don't like traveling by train very much. It makes me sick, all that swaying and lurching."</p><p>The lie rolled off her tongue far too easily. She felt a little guilty for lying to Penelope this way, but what choice did she have? She could not tell the other woman the reason why avoiding King's Cross, and thereby her family, was so important.</p><p>"You don't like trains?" Repeated Penelope, a frown lining her graceful face. "Why didn't you say so earlier? When we took the train to get here?"</p><p>"Oh, I didn't want to make a fuss," replied Juliette, hoping Penelope would mistake her flushed face for embarrassment and not the guilt that was causing it, "But I'm really tired now and, well, I don't think I could manage traveling through a train just now."</p><p>"Oh," said Penelope blankly. "Well. . ."</p><p>"You should go," Juliette interrupted before the other woman could say another word, "I'll find a bus or a taxi and get home. Don't worry."</p><p>Penelope did not return Juliette's smile. "Don't be ridiculous. I can't leave you in the city like this, not when you've just admitted you don't like wandering around by yourself. No!" Penny held up a hand as Juliette started to protest. "We'll take a taxi home, alright? It'll be more comfortable anyway."</p><p>"Penny–"</p><p>"Taxi, alright?" repeated Penelope firmly but not unkindly, "I wish you'd told me sooner, Juliettte. We wouldn't have taken the train this morning either."</p><p>Juliette mumbled something about not wanting to cause any more inconvenience, but Penelope was only half listening. In two bold strides, she had crossed the sidewalk and stood at its edge, an arm outstretched. A few passersby turned to watch her. Amongst the many things she'd learnt that day, Juliette had also found that people were often drawn to Penelope. They turned towards her, listened to her, followed her. With her tall, slim stature, and elegant manners, it wasn't difficult to see why she was the object of such fervent attention.</p><p>Within a minute of Penelope holding her arm out, a black car had pulled up to the curbside, and Juliette found herself being ushered into the backseat by a beaming Penelope.</p><p>"In you go," she said as Juliette climbed into the car and moved to make space for Penelope, who turned to the driver and said, "13 Maplebrook Street. Do avoid M25 if you can, hmm?"</p><p>The car swerved as it pulled back into the road, leading them away from the crowded city. Yet even as it picked up speed, crossing the junction and speeding down the road beside King's Cross station, Juliette felt the familiar feeling of nausea churning her insides. Her hands began shaking where they lay in her lap, her heart beating against her chest almost painfully. Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, Juliette leaned her head back and let her eyes fall shut, willing herself to stop seeing the bright, crimson spots now dancing behind her eyelids.</p><hr/><p>Alice Fawcett stood outside the Deputy Head Auror's office, her hands wringing wildly as she debated which of her unfairly limited options would be least likely to end in disaster. Entering the Deputy Head's office right now seemed akin to stepping willingly before You-Know-Who's wand. She could return to her cubicle and wait for the storm to ebb, but then she would miss her deadline for submitting the Bulgarian Ministry's <em>International Portkey Activation</em> forms. She could just slip the forms under the door and hope it'd catch someone's eye, but she highly doubted she was lucky enough to pull that off. Perhaps she could leave it at Scrimgeour's desk. But what if he never returned to his cubicle, or left without seeing the forms? She did not want to jeopardize yet another mission; the Conway girl and Prewett brothers still joked about the time she had nearly compromised a mission by forgetting to send a memo to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, resulting in a noticeable lack of Hit Wizards to back up the Aurors on the field.</p><p>A loud bang sounded from inside the office, followed by more illegible shouts and roars. Whatever it was that the Head Auror, Deputy Head, and select senior Aurors were discussing inside, Alice did not want to know. It was well past five in the evening now, and all she wanted was to submit the bloody forms, go home, get some sleep, take a nice, hot shower, and leave for Bulgaria the following morning. Evidently, this was asking too much.</p><p>"What's asking too much?"</p><p>Alice snapped out of her daze and blinked, looking around for the source of the voice; she hadn't even noticed she was mumbling to herself out loud. Her eyes found the tall, burly form of Moody's assistant, a pretty boy with dark hair that fell into his eyes. She didn't know him, but she had seen him around the office several times, trailing behind Moody as the two zipped from one case to another (she hardly ever left her desk; Scrimgeour wasn't too fond of taking assistants with him out onto the field). She did know, however, that Moody's assistant sat on the opposite end of the floor, but thus far, she had had no reason to speak to him.</p><p>"What were you talking about?" He asked again in a soft voice she nearly didn't hear over the ruckus ensuing just beyond the wooden doors they stood before. Hands deep in his pockets, his brown eyes were trained on hers as he waited for her answer.</p><p>"Taking a shower," she blurted, saying the first thought that sprang to her mind and feeling her face flush the very next moment as the man did his best to stifle a grin. "I mean – home. I was thinking of going home, but I can't until I hand these in," she clarified, holding up the stack of papers clutched in her right hand. Seeing his raised brow, she added, "<em>International Portkey Activation forms,</em> for setting up the Portkeys to Bulgaria."</p><p>"Ah, yes," the man nodded, "I heard there were some changes to how we were getting there. What happened to the Apparition plan?"</p><p>"Outruled," said Alice with a sigh, "Scrimgeour insisted we use some other form of travel, one less monitored by the Bulgarian Ministry."</p><p>"And they don't track Portkeys well?"</p><p>Alice shook her head.</p><p>"How come?"</p><p>"My guess is as good as yours," she admitted.</p><p>"Weird," he mumbled under his breath, and Alice nodded. Having exhausted their quota of polite conversation, the two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as words failed them, and still, the shouting match raged on. Alice ran a hand through her short, dark tresses, her fingers catching in a day's worth of tangles. She felt the assistant's eyes on her, but whenever she risked a glance at him, she found his gaze trained on the floor instead.</p><p>A particularly loud thump against the door made them jump.</p><p>"What d'you reckon's going on in there?" asked Moody's assistant, looking a little anxious.</p><p>Alice pondered for a minute then said slowly, "I can't say with any precision."</p><p>"Take an imprecise guess, then."</p><p>Alice gave a short laugh. "A disagreement?" she suggested as Angus MacDonald, the Head Auror, roared 'Not this again, ye daft man!'</p><p>The assistant lifted an eyebrow. "You don't say."</p><p>Alice merely shrugged, eyes darting from the assistant to the closed doors to her wristwatch, then repeating the action again. After several moments, during which Alice's ears picked up a slew of colorful curses in Moody's faint voice as it carried through the door – the imperturbable charm placed on the Head Auror's door had been wearing off steadily for a while now – the assistant broke the silence between them.</p><p>"You're going on the mission to Bulgaria too, aren't you?" he asked. When Alice nodded, he added, "Well, guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow morning then, Fawcett. Goodnight."</p><p>"'Night."</p><p>He had walked more than a fair few paces when Alice finally registered that he called her 'Fawcett'; he knew her name. Bewildered, she ran after him.</p><p>"Wait!" she called, skidding to a halt behind him. "How do you... I'm sorry, I don't... what's your name again?"</p><p>The assistant looked at her with wide eyes. "You don't know my name?"</p><p>Alice frowned. "Should I?"</p><p>"No, I suppose not," the man laughed, shuffling his feet as he explained, "I just meant it's not a huge department, after all, and everyone knows each other, at least through other people. We all hang around here all the time, so I assumed. . ."</p><p>Alice turned even redder, if possible. "Oh, I haven't been here long. It's only been a couple of months since I finished training, and I haven't really had a chance to speak to many people either, so I – I don't know anyone," she finished lamely. Admitting she had no friends at work sounded worse than she had expected.</p><p>"Oh," said the man blankly. Then, recovering quickly, he held out a scarred hand and gave her a bright smile. "Frank Longbottom."</p><p>"Alice Fawcett," she told him as she took his hand. It was very cold.</p><p>"I know," said Frank, "Everyone knows Scrimgeour's assistant. Rotten luck, by the way, being stuck with him of all people."</p><p>Alice laughed. "It's not too bad."</p><p>"Just not very nice either, I expect."</p><p>"I'm going to keep my job and not answer that question."</p><p>"In not answering you do sort of answer, don't you think?"</p><p>Alice didn't reply. She offered the assistant – <em>Frank</em> – a shrug and what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace. Frank returned the gesture and opened his mouth to say something but what it was that he wanted to say, Alice would never know, for at that very moment, the doors to the Head Auror's office flew open and a dozen wizards stormed out from it. She caught a glimpse of Scrimgeour's thunderous face before he disappeared behind his cubicle. Alice exchanged a look with Frank, who looked as nonplussed as she felt.</p><p>"FAWCETT!" Scrimgeour's voice suddenly echoed around the silent office. A couple of Aurors stopped in their tracks to glance around, evidently confused as to who 'Fawcett' was.</p><p>With a sinking feeling, Alice gripped her papers tighter to her chest and turned to smile wryly at Frank, who mouthed a <em>good luck</em> to her. With an appreciative nod, Alice whipped around and made her way over to Scrimgeour's desk, dreading whatever lay awaiting her.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>